Bishop Monson Provides for German Refugees
A classic story told by President Monson many times in many places over the years.
On a cold winter’s night in 1951, there was a knock at my door. A German brother from Ogden, Utah, introduced himself and said, “Are you Bishop Monson?” I answered that I was. He began to weep and said, “My brother, his wife, and family are coming here from Germany. They are going to live in your ward. Will you come with us to see the apartment we have rented for them?”
On the way to the apartment, he told me he had not seen his brother for many years. Through the horror of World War II, his brother had been faithful to the Church, once serving as a branch president before the war took him to the Russian front.
I looked at the apartment. It was cold and dreary. The paint was peeling, the wallpaper was dirty, the cupboards were empty. A single 40-watt bulb, suspended from the living room ceiling, revealed a worn linoleum floor covering with a large hole in the center. I was heartsick. I thought, “What a dismal welcome for a family which has endured so much.”
My thoughts were interrupted as the brother told me, “It isn’t much, but it’s better than they have in Germany.” With that, the key to the apartment was left with me, along with the information that the family would arrive in Salt Lake City in three weeks—just two days before Christmas.
I couldn’t sleep that night. The next morning was Sunday. In our ward welfare meeting, one of my counselors said, “Bishop, you look exhausted. Is something wrong?”
I told those present my experience of the night before, describing the details of the uninviting apartment. There were several moments of silence.
Then one brother, the high priests group leader, said, “Bishop, did you say that apartment was poorly lighted and the kitchen appliances needed replacing?” He said, “I am an electrical contractor. Would you permit the high priests of our ward to rewire that apartment? And I could invite my suppliers to contribute a new stove and a new refrigerator. Do I have your permission?”
I gladly answered him, “Certainly.”
Then another brother, the seventies leader, said, “Bishop, you know that I’m in the carpet business. What if I invite my suppliers to contribute some carpet – the quorum brothers can easily put it down and turn that floor into something special.”
Then the elders quorum president spoke. He owned a paint store. He said, “I’ll donate the paint. We’ll organize the elders to paint and put up new wallpaper in that apartment.”
Our Relief Society president was next to speak. “We in the Relief Society cannot stand the idea of empty cupboards. We will see that they are filled!”
The three weeks which followed will never be forgotten. It seemed as though the entire ward became involved in the project.
The days passed quickly, and at the appointed time, the family arrived from Germany. Again at my door stood the brother from Ogden. With an emotion-filled voice, he introduced to me his brother, his brother’s wife, and their family. Then he asked, “Could we go over to the apartment?”
As we walked up the staircase leading to the apartment, I heard him tellling his brother in German, “It isn’t much, it isn’t much.” Little did he know what a transformation had taken place, and that many who had helped were inside the apartment, awaiting our arrival.
The door opened to reveal a newness of life. We were greeted by the smell of freshly painted woodwork and newly papered walls. Gone was the 40-watt bulb, along with the worn-out flooring it had illuminated. In its place was a new carpet, deep and beautiful. A walk to the kitchen presented to our view a new stove and new refrigerator. The cupboard doors were still open, but now every shelf was filled with food. As usual, the Relief Society sisters had done their work.
In the living room, we began singing Christmas hymns. We sang “Silent night! Holy night! All is calm, all is bright.” We sang in English; they sang in German. At the conclusion, the father, having been informed that the apartment and all of its contents were his, took me by the hand to express his thanks. But emotion overcame him. He buried his head in my shoulder and said over and over, “Mein Bruder, mein Bruder, mein Bruder.”
It was time to leave. As we walked down the stairs and out into the night air, snow was falling. No one spoke. Finally, a girl asked, “Bishop, I feel better than I have ever felt before. What happened here?”
I thought of the words of the Master: “Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” I also thought of the words from “O Little Town of Bethlehem”:
How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift is giv’n!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heav’n.
No ear may hear his coming;
But in this world of sin,
Where meek souls will receive him, still
The dear Christ enters in.
Silently and wondrously, His gift had been given. Lives were blessed, needs were met, hearts were touched, and souls were saved. A divine plan had been followed. A precious promise had been fulfilled.
Watch a telling of this story from the video, “On the Lord’s Errand – The Life of Thomas S. Monson.”
