Dr. René Frank

Dr. René FrankDr. René Frank chaired the Department of Music from 1954 until 1965. He has left a teaching and composition legacy that serves as an outstanding model for young musicians today. Read his life story here, or view his works of composition (which are available through the TUFW Department of Music office).

SOLI DEO GLORIA

René Frank Biography

March 21, 1965, marked the homegoing of Dr. René Frank, long-time and beloved member of N.C.M.F. His one aim in life was to love and serve the Lord, and this he did through his compositions, his teaching and his counsel with students and fellow musicians.

René Frank was born of Jewish parents in Alsace-Lorraine taken on February 10, 1910. He grew up in a musical atmosphere, for his mother was an accomplished pianist and singer. As a child, he willingly accepted the religion of his parents, but outside through the influence of his young friends and because of the half-heartedness of religious observance among his people, he came to doubt the biblical account of creation and the reality of sin. He confessed later that in the midst of this weakened moral climate, the strongest force of purity in his young life was music. He began composing when he was 13. He was a pupil of Rudolph Fetsch in piano; of Nicolai Lopatnikoff, Herman Reutter, and Wolfgang Fortner in composition; and was a graduate of the Oberrealschule, Pforzheim, Germany. But after such encouraging beginnings, his musical work was interrupted and he was forced by the Nazi threat to leave Germany at the age of 25.

In 1936, therefore, René went to Yokohama, Japan, in the employ of a Swiss export firm with whom he remained until after his conversion in 1942. There were many Germans in Japan at that time, including members of the Gestapo who were sent there to persecute Jews. In the providence of God, René escaped their brutality but was seldom far from the fear of them.

Meantime, René’s fiancée, Louise, had come to Japan where they were married in 1937. Marriage with a Gentile had been forbidden by Nazis while they were still in Germany, but in Japan his wife was a source of comfort and help to him. It was through her conversion and the influence of Christian missionaries in Yokahama and elsewhere that René was led to think seriously about the claims of Christ. When Louise attended church services after her conversion, he could not stand seeing her go without him, so he went along.

Finally, on March 15, 1942, he was brought to the Lord through a strange incident which he described in this way:

That night before retiring in my usual manner, I hung my suit on a door, the upper half of which was glass. During the night I was awakened suddenly and noticed that the moon was shining through the glass on my garments outlined a dark cross. Just then that shameful word "Tole" (Hanged One) used by my dear grandmother for Christ came to my mind. A burning shame swept over me at the thought of our (the Jews) rejection of Him about whom I had by now heard so many touching and wonderful things. At that moment for the first time in my life, I felt the presence of God. And many times since that incident, I have marveled why it was that only that outline of the cross broke down the wall of separation and doubt between God and me.

For three days following this experience, René was in great agony of soul because he now saw himself as God saw him, full of vanity and hypocrisy. He was driven to the Scriptures to seek God‘s will, and when peace came, it was complete.

René’s new-found faith led him to leave the export business and to begin life again as a full-time musician. The couple moved to Kobe where they rented a home and he began teaching piano. Then the war came. René's passport was taken from him and the Franks became people without a country — kokuseki nashi, as the Japanese say. The Japanese no longer mixed with foreigners, and the news blackout made outside contact virtually impossible and kept everyone in the dark — almost literally so — about the progress of the war. It was during the very last air raid that the Franks' home was destroyed, but they started again and were soon established in a hillside house in Kobe. During 1946-1947, René commuted twice a week to teach at the music school for GI's in Kyoto. On March 11, 1947, a fire again completely destroyed their home, the origin of which forever remained a mystery. Lost was the orchestra score to the "Five Psalms," the work of many weeks, which René mourned more than all the clothing and music books burned in the fire.

But catastrophe also brought its blessing. The day before the fire, a German Bible had come from the United States. After a restless sleep at a friend's home the night of the fire, René opened the Book and his eyes fell upon Psalm 40 from which he derived much comfort and assurance. This psalm was to become his life Scripture portion. The second verse confirmed the Franks in their resolve to go to the United States as soon as possible to establish a new life there. It so happened that they were among the first to receive visas in spite of what seemed to them impossible odds. Verse three stood out to them as peculiarly their own. René often quoted these verses in his testimonies at Fort Wayne Bible College, each time with a glow of joy and assurance.

Rummaging among the ruins of the fire two days later, the Franks came upon a half-burned copy of the vocal score of the "Five Psalms" — a further comforting sign. But this was not all. During the air raid that had taken their first home, René had entrusted his compositions to a Japanese pupil for safe-keeping. Since they had never been returned, René thought them lost; but now suddenly the pupil returned with them. René said later:

Among the manuscripts so wonderfully recovered, I found several interesting pieces, which quite naturally arranged themselves into a pattern that would illustrate to the music lover the new life in Christ. The whole series I compiled in one unit which I called "Panorama of Hell and Heaven."

Thus did sorrow and grief yield joy and peace, and the chaos of doubt become a quiet certainty.   Read more...