Book Review: Montgomery: A White Preacher’s Memoir by Robert S. Graetz

[1] Robert Graetz’s memoir echoes through the years, from mid-1950’s Alabama, to the present. And we would do well to note the resonances in 2025, the 70^th anniversary of the Montgomery bus boycott.

[2] Graetz wrote his memoir in his early 60s, reflecting on the tumultuous events that had happened 35 years prior. He could’ve composed his story as if he were a hero who helped oppressed Black folks find their way to better lives. He could have accented his role as a martyr who gave up a “normal” parish ministry for the volatility of mid-50s Montgomery. He could have even droned on like an old man who wanted “young’uns” to know how tough ministry was, “back in the day.” But he does not lapse into cliché or revisionism.

[3] He writes with honesty, humility, and gratitude; a Lutheran ethicist who retrospectively acknowledges the providential hand of God at work in the Montgomery protests. This is why he wrote the book. And it is tricky business—sanctimonious assertions about the will of God can sound haughty; and pious appeals to God’s protection during dangerous and confusing crises can sound self-righteous. He avoids such pitfalls.

[4] When he sought God’s guidance, Graetz did not then hear the Divine response in clarion calls from the realms of glory. The difficulties and joys of serving as a white pastor in a Black congregation in the Jim Crow south, remained problematic and complex, ambiguous and risky. Yet, in, with, and under it all, he picks up on God’s activity—a cantus firmus appreciated from distance. He begins with an overture: “Though there is general agreement that the events in Montgomery mark the beginning of the modern, revitalized, civil rights movement, we do not believe enough attention has been paid to the role of the Church or the intervention of God in the Montgomery movement.” [p. viii]

[5] Then, the story takes off—undulating, swooping, and swirling—until he loops back to God’s presence: “But once again God had intervened on our behalf. We could not know what was in our best interest, but He did. The same Lord who had directed our steps through all the years of preparation and had guided us through the period of turmoil in Montgomery, was now leading us into new fields of service, each with its own set of challenges and rewards, each with its own memories.” [p. 132]

[6] In the summer of 1955, Graetz was installed as pastor at Trinity Lutheran Church, a Black congregation in Alabama’s capital city. He was young and white. Another young pastor, The Rev. Martin Luther King, had recently started his pastorate over on Dexter Avenue. Then, in December, on the Saturday before Advent II, a parishioner called to tell Pr. Graetz that a woman had been arrested on a bus the previous Thursday, that a boycott of the city buses was planned for Monday, and that a neighborhood meeting to organize next steps was scheduled for that same Monday evening.

[7] So, Graetz called a neighbor who advised a youth group that met at the church. He figured she’d be in the know. He was right. Rosa Parks picked up the phone.

[8] He retells the conversation like this:

After exchanging greetings, I said, “I just heard that someone was arrested on one of the buses Thursday.”

“That’s right Pastor Graetz.”

“And that we’re supposed to boycott the buses on Monday to protest.”

“That’s right pastor Graetz.”

“Do you know anything about it?”

“Yes, Pastor Graetz.”

“Well, who was it?”

There was a moment of silence. Then in a quiet, timid voice she replied, “It was me Pastor Graetz.” [pp. 42-43]

[9] As a good pastor, he greeted the folks of Trinity the next day, “Let’s try to make this boycott as effective as possible because it won’t be any boycott if half of us ride the buses and half don’t ride. So, if we’re going to do it, let’s make a good job of it.” [p. 44]

[10] Graetz’s account of his conversation with Mrs. Parks, and his pre-worship announcement the next day, hit important tones. His story is serious, and it portrays injustices and horrors of all kinds. And it includes moments like this—grace notes that indicate deeper truths. He tells stories of resilience and strength, as Black folks worked for freedom in Montgomery, the south, and across the nation. Its seriousness also includes accounts of the absurdities and injustices of life in 1950s Alabama. And that includes his interactions with some of the famous and not so famous, ordinary and extraordinary folks in the movement.

[11] Graetz is forthcoming as he depicts the complicated dynamics of race in his life and the wider culture. As a boy in Charleston, West Virginia, he adopted the prevailing attitudes of his day: “Negroes, often the butt of jokes, were not considered people of any value.” In high school, he performed in minstrel shows intended to entertain various white audiences.

[12] As a student at Capital University, his studies led him recognize the profound injustice of systemic racism. And he resolved to fight it. He joined the Columbus chapter of the NAACP and started a race relations club on campus. He describes himself: “A typical new convert, I was full of zeal to eradicate racial prejudice and discrimination wherever it existed.” [p. 5] He naively considered transferring to an HBCU and trying to pass as a Black man—until wise friend dissuaded him: “You always have the option of walking out. We don’t.” [p. 6]

[13] And there were times during his Montgomery days when he accessed white privilege—sometimes to help the cause, sometimes to protect his family, and sometimes because it was too hard to avoid.

[14] Clearly, he writes as a pastor, aware of his limitations and thankful that the folks at Trinity Lutheran called him to Montgomery. It was his sense of pastoral responsibility that led him to support parishioners and join in the protest with them. And it was his pastoral perspective that led him to compose a work that gratefully reverberates with the rhythms of God’s providence.