Meet Carolyn Kurtz, Writer, Researcher, Member of Bruderhof Community

Carolyn Kurtz

Carolyn Kurtz is a researcher, writer and editor for Plough Publishers. Plough Publishing House is the publishing branch of the Bruderhof Community. Carolyn has edited two anthologies of writings by Dorothy Day and Bishop Oscar Romero. She lives with the Bruderhof community in England.

What was it like growing up in community?

My parents joined the Bruderhof community in Rifton, New York, before I was born. I had a rich childhood with a large family, a group of peers who were my friends from kindergarten through college, and caring teachers who taught us not only academics but also fair play, team spirit, and appreciation for culture and nature. My parents, my teachers, and my friends’ parents were all members of our church community and had a cohesive approach to raising and educating us.

Describe your thought processes/experiences that resulted in your decision to join the Bruderhof community.

I made my lifetime commitment to God, to Jesus, and to my fellow members through adult believer’s baptism when I was 23 years old. Since I was about fourteen, I knew I wanted to pledge my life to Christ. In ninth grade, someone asked me, “Are you a Christian?” I hedged, thinking of violent atrocities committed by Christians in the history I’d been studying: “What do you mean by Christian?” She rephrased her question: “Do you believe in Jesus?” I looked her in the eye and exclaimed, “Oh, yes, I believe in Jesus!” I was still a headstrong teenager, growing into maturity, but I already had a clear trajectory.

Commuting to college for four years, I saw fellow students striving for education to land a high-paying job. I took a class in Victorian literature, where the poet’s question what comes after earthly life and often seem to despair of life. Tennyson, in “The Holy Grail,” has Lancelot groan: “’…But for all my madness and my sin, / And then my swooning, I had sworn I saw / That which I saw; but what I saw was veil’d / And cover’d; and this Quest was not for me.’”[1] Wordsworth laments in “Song”: “Day and night my toils redouble, / Never nearer to the goal; / Night and day, I feel the trouble / Of the Wanderer in my soul.”[2] As he appreciates the joyous freedom of a sky-lark, he mourns, “I have walked through wildernesses dreary / And today my heart is weary; / …I, with my fate contented, will plod on, / And hope for higher raptures, when life’s day is done.”[3] I found myself applying these doubts and questions to my own life.

Simultaneously, during that spring, Annemarie Arnold, the wife of my pastor, was dying of cancer. Despite her suffering, she radiated love and trust in God, pointing children and adults alike to Jesus. I read the letters she wrote as a twenty-year-old: “Conflicts and difficult situations never find a solution; you just drag them around with you. There must be people who have an inner kinship with you, and it can’t be just anyone. Surely there must be people like that. It is so difficult to find a heart-to-heart friendship. The more complex a person is, the harder it will surely be.” Later, visiting the first Bruderhof community, she wrote: “Eberhard [Arnold] told us that the way of Jesus is a bitter way, the way of the Cross. This real sacrifice and complete surrender that Christ demands spoke to me very much. I wanted to join this life.” (You can find more about her search in Anni : Letters and Writings of Annemarie Wächter.) Experiencing Annemarie’s dying, I found my own positive answer to the Victorians poets’ despairing, timeless questions. I wanted to follow Jesus, as Annemarie had chosen to do.

Bruderhof Community, England

Annemarie’s final days had a great impact on my faith and understanding of community life. But looking back on my childhood and teen years, I also remember all the weekend visitors, interested in or curious about Christian community. They’d spend hours in deep discussion with my dad as we kids listened. An often-asked question was, “Do you believe community is the only way for people to live?” My dad would reply: “It’s the only honest way I can live. Each person must live his own calling from God.” My own future became more focused. God gave me these parents in this community; would I find a truer expression of my faith anywhere else? Our church meetings, communal mealtimes, and youth gatherings all contributed to my growing conviction that I was called to commit to this church community.

What lessons can we learn from the community’s 1937 expulsion from Germany by the Nazis?

By 1937, Bruderhof members resisted the Nazi regime on many issues. Their young men refused to join Hitler’s army, and the members refused to accept a Nazi educator for their children. They refused to give the mandatory “Heil Hitler” greeting, insisting that “Heil”—salvation—comes only from Christ. Knowing that these objections would incite conflict with the German state, they chose to uphold their convictions rather than compromise their faith. Their witness remains a challenge to me. There are many Christians currently suffering for their faith, refusing the alternative of compromise. I pray for this courage if I ever encounter persecution.

How are nonviolence and unconditional forgiveness encouraged in real life?

Nonviolence and unconditional forgiveness are pillars of Bruderhof life. Our members are all conscientious objectors to military service, and we strive to educate our children and youth in nonviolent conflict resolution on a daily basis. Both parents and teachers know and are frequently reminded that children need to begin every day fresh. Mistakes and misdemeanors from one “bad” day must be dealt with then and not carried into a new day. Also, we committed members promise to speak directly to each other if we feel negatively towards someone, or when we know that we were wrong or unkind. Then the quickest way to peace is simply to say, “I am sorry.” When a member recognizes faults, our church helps that person to find peace with God and make peace with all members. Then the wrong is past, forgiven, and we continue life on a clean page.

Bruderhoff Community, England

What do you see as the major differences between living in community and not?

Our commitment is to God, to Christ, and to each other. Taken seriously, this commitment means I own nothing: time, talents, material possessions. I work where I’m needed, share kitchen space, and attend all communal events unless I’m baby-sitting. Visitors occasionally ask, “Do you have to do that?” For me this is not even an issue. I am here free-willingly! The motive for Christian community must be love to Christ and love to one’s neighbor. The commitment can only be made out of the joy of one’s soul, never out of coercion.

Bruderhof living may seem materially simple to a passing visitor. We don’t own our own cars, relying on a community fleet. We don’t have the latest entertainment technology in our homes, and we strive to live simply, without too many possessions. But community life based on love and mutual caring is rich. Fellow members shop, cook, keep accounts, do my laundry, teach my children, and earn money in our communal factory to keep us all fed, housed, and clothed. Truly, I do not worry about basic human needs. In fact, I think that only in community is it possible to fully live out the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew Chapters 5, 6, and 7. In Christian community, God provides and each member is given what he or she needs.

What might be some practical solutions to the current lack of civil discourse in the US and England and other places worldwide?

Dorothy Day quotes Saint John of the Cross: “Where there is no love, put love and you will take out love”  (The Reckless Way of Love, p. 86). Apply the Golden Rule; start small, with your neighbor. How can you help each other, encourage each other, enjoy life together—an hour’s visit, a child’s birthday party, or any other excuse for a celebration? Reach out to give to people right around you. “Do the little things each day as well as we can,” Dorothy Day says (The Reckless Way of Love, p. 67).

How did you decide to work with Plough? How did you decide to highlight the works of Dorothy Day and Oscar Romero?

Plough is the publishing branch of the Bruderhof Communities. Four years ago, I was spending two hours a day in the apartment of an elderly woman who napped for one and a half hours of that time. Plough was looking for freelance editors to compile anthologies for its Plough Spiritual Guides series, small book of excerpts with the tagline “backpack classics for modern pilgrims.” So I launched into Dorothy Day, and realized I was researching my own roots. When I was six, a young single woman, Julie Lien, had joined my family. My parents became her community family and she helped my mom to care for us children for the next fifteen years. I consider Julie my aunt. Dorothy Day had visited the Bruderhof in 1955, bringing Julie, then twenty, along with her. Julie eventually joined the Bruderhof. While compiling this book, I had the chance to deepen my understanding of who Dorothy Day was, this woman whom Julie had respected so much.

Discovering Dorothy Day’s love for the poor and, ultimately, her longing for community, I was eager to delve into another spiritual guide. Plough suggested Oscar Romero. Oscar Romero? I knew he had been martyred in 1980, but like most people I had never read more than a few famous quotes. Reading his newly translated homilies, I began to “hear” him speaking directly to his people. He urges them to resist violence, to choose love, to live in hope. I am sorry I never met this man of God face to face.

Are there other individuals in the series you’d like to highlight?

I’m in conversation with Plough editors on further subjects for this series. I’m happy to have found a constructive outlet for my twin loves: reading and research. This work enables me to introduce young people to trustworthy spiritual guides from the past, and to encourage today’s seekers that they are not alone. Others have journeyed before us on this path of discipleship. Right now I’m working on a selection of the writings of Amy Carmichael.