Confessions of a Mennonite Menace 

Ron Sala 

 

When you’re a minister, people have a tendency to talk with you about religion. That, of course, goes without saying. Ministers spend their professional lives preaching and teaching about religious subjects. But unlike most other occupations, ministers have no punch-clock to tell them their day is over. One is still a minister at cocktail parties, sporting events, and in the barber’s chair.

When people find out I’m a Unitarian Universalist minister, they often ask if I started out that way. I tell them, no, I was raised Mennonite. If the UU thing didn’t shock them, the Mennonite thing usually does. “How did you go from there to where you are now?” they demand in stunned tones, as pictures fill their minds of me as a boy in a straw hat riding in a horse and buggy through Lancaster County.

My sermon this morning is a reflection on my Mennonite roots and on how one religious immigrant in a denomination of immigrants got from there to here.

First, let me set the record straight: I never wore plain clothes, nor have I ever ridden in a horse-drawn buggy—though it looks like fun. Mennonites come in all sorts and conditions, from the extreme simplicity of the Old Order (nearly indistinguishable from their close relatives the Amish) to the resident of Manhattan you would never know was a Mennonite unless you asked.

And a second point: Mennonites and Unitarian Universalists are not really as different as you might guess. In fact, Unitarians and Mennonites are veritable kissing cousins. Journey back with me a moment to the Europe of the sixteenth century. We’ve all heard of a German Catholic monk by the name of Martin Luther who became exasperated with the corruption of the Church and decided to start his own purified version. But perhaps we are not as cognizant of another ex-Catholic holy man, contemporary with Luther, a former priest from Holland, called Menno Simons. Menno was not the founder of the movement that would eventually bear his name (that honor goes more properly to the Swiss Reformer Ulrich Zwingli) but he was one of its most important writers and leaders.

Menno and his fellow Anabaptists, or “Rebaptizers” were part of what is known as the Radical Reformation. These radicals believed in many of the same things that the Lutherans did, namely that the Catholic Church had gotten out of touch with the original spirit of Christianity, that the Bible should be available in the language of the common people, and that salvation did not come through an institution but by faith in God alone. But these Radical Reformers also felt that the main body of the Reformation had not gone far enough.

Some began to say that it wasn’t right that membership in a church should be conferred upon infants, like the Catholics and Lutherans did, but should only be granted to people old enough to make a rational decision to join.

Some began to question how one could profess to follow Jesus, “the Prince of Peace,” who taught love for enemies, and yet take up a sword when ordered to by the state.

Some began to challenge the idea that the church and state should be in collusion at all, arguing that primitive Christianity was counter-cultural and prophetic and did not participate in the forces of coercion and control. It’s been said that the Anabaptists formed the first “free” church in modern history, “free” in the sense of not being bound up with state control.

Some even went so far as to point out that the word “Trinity” is found nowhere in the Bible and claim that the Scriptural evidence that God was three persons in one was not very convincing. Even though the idea that God is composed of Father, Son, and Spirit would prevail in Mennonite churches, it’s worth noting that many of the Anabaptists, from which Mennonites spring, and the Anti-Trinitarians, from which Unitarians derive, were the same people. Hence, I call Mennonites and Unitarians “kissing cousins.”

More broadly, though, many of the chief themes of the Anabaptist movement—the use of reason in religion, the separation of church and state, a critique of how the state uses its power, and that the church should be free and freely chosen—are still ideas UU’s cherish today.

The authorities of the sixteenth century did not look favorably on these new ideas. Just as the Anti-Trinitarian Michael Servetus escaped his Catholic opponents only to be burned at the stake by his fellow Reformer, John Calvin, Mennonites underwent terrible persecution at the hands of Catholics and Protestants as well.

About the reasons for this persecution, Ian, a Mennonite in England, cited on a Mennonite website, says: (quote)

…such was the fear and loathing that was conveyed by the term "Anabaptist" that, even during the ferment and turbulence of the early 17th century and the English revolution, there was no worse thing you could apparently accuse someone of than being an Anabaptist…. The Anabaptists struck fear into the hearts of the respectable classes and the authorities because they were a church of the poor. This was a movement which empowered the poor, it made them independent of the rich and powerful. The powers that be could not control them, because they were living by a different base of values and priorities to the rulers of the State, who had long got used to the Church behaving in a way that was acceptable to them. (unquote)

Thousands were burned or tortured, put in thumbscrews or on racks, or placed in hanging cages till they starved and rotted as a warning to the public. Many of these persecutions are documented in a thick book called The Martyr’s Mirror, which was one of the first books published in America.

Growing up as a Mennonite kid, I was made very aware that my forebears had died for the faith. I still remember a story about how Anabaptists would move from place to place under the hay in wagons. At checkpoints, these wagons were sometimes searched by plunging a pitchfork into the pile. If the sharp points pierced your flesh, you had to resist crying out or you and your comrades would be captured. Or there is the story of Menno himself driving a passenger wagon that was stopped by the authorities. Not knowing what he looked like, they told him they were looking for Menno Simons. Rather than committing a sin by lying and telling them he was not Menno Simons, he turned to his passengers and asked, “Is there a Menno Simons back there?” His question being answered in the negative, the guards sent him on his way.

And finally, I can never forget the story of Dirk Willems, a Dutch Anabaptist who was chased by a sheriff over thin ice. As the men ran, the pursuer fell through into the freezing waters below. Rather than doing the expected thing of continuing to run away, Dirk stopped and turned around. Jesus had taught doing good to those that persecute you and showing love, even to your enemy. Dirk helped the sheriff to safety. The sheriff did not have the same Christian love, or even gratitude, and arrested Dirk who was then burnt at the stake.

I still remember being at a Mennonite camp as a teenager and going through an exercise in which my friend Rich (who was a linebacker on the football team) and I played the role of officers of an authoritarian government, which had outlawed Christianity. The rest of the youth there played the parts of members of underground churches, meeting secretly in residences, caves, and forest groves. You know, through that whole weekend retreat, Rich and I didn’t find a single secret prayer group! It seems that some of that hiding skill has been passed down through ages….

Overall, I have fond memories of being raised Mennonite: the boys club in which I played “Kick the Can,” the sumptuous and very fattening Pennsylvania Dutch potlucks, the youth group which helped me to come out of my proverbial “shell,” the intense feelings of liberation and release at the bi-annual communion and foot washing services, in which I first felt the stirrings of the Holy Spirit.

I would probably not be a minister today if it hadn’t been for the powerful ministry of Pastor Al Detweiler, my hometown minister for the entire time I was a Mennonite. I might not be a liberal today if it had not been for Nelson Shenk, the man who would succeed Pastor Al, who taught me to watch out for the power and abuses of a government that sometimes drafts its citizens into wars it should not be engaged in.

One of the chief things Mennonites are known for is their stance for peace and against military service. Mennonites take Jesus’ words and example very seriously as he taught his disciples to turn the other cheek and gave no resistance as he was arrested and executed. Menno Simons wondered in his writings how humanity, which had no sharp teeth, talons, or claws like the wild animals, could yet be the most vicious of creatures in their endless wars with each other, destroying whole cities and nations in search of wealth and power. It is the Mennonite stance that taking part in war, any war, is incompatible with a Christian life based on love.

There’s an excellent article in the current issue of the UU World by the Mennonite scholar John Paul Lederach called “Breaking the Cycle of Violence.” In it, he outlines non-violent responses to the terrorist crisis that make sense whether one is a pacifist or not.

As with the doctrines of any faith, this stance against fighting has been imperfectly followed by Mennonites, and its compliance has varied from one generation to another. One of my ancestors, for instance, fought for the Union at Gettysburg and my late uncle Warren was an army paratrooper in his youth. But many other Mennonites followed the precepts of their faith and refused to take up the gun. My father was one. When he was drafted to fight in Korea, he objected based on his religious beliefs. The government then placed him in a special program for conscientious objectors called 1-W Service, in which he worked as an orderly in a state mental hospital. Many of the men in the program would go on to spend their lives in service to the mentally ill.

By the time of the War in Vietnam, with that era’s massive antiwar protests and resistance to the draft, it seemed that the rest of the country had caught up with the Mennonites and their questioning of the dictum, “My country, right or wrong.”

But peace is more than the absence of war. Pastor Al and his wife adopted a number of Amer-Asian children resulting from that war, which were friends of mine growing up. Indeed, a concern for all the world’s people was always stressed for us at church. Whether it was providing nutrition bars for the malnourished in Central America, clean drinking water in Africa, or some other project, we were admonished never to forget that we lived in a rich country and were to show God’s love to those less fortunate. It being an evangelical faith, some of this mission work was in the form of saving souls for Christ—an activity I would eventually sour on. But a very important part was also seeing to the physical needs of the world’s disadvantaged.

The Mennonite way of life has always stressed simplicity, and this age-old emphasis has taken on new meaning in this era of obscenely widening gaps between the world’s rich and poor. Many Mennonite homes cook meals from Doris Longacre’s revolutionary More-with-Less Cookbook, which is “full of suggestions by Mennonites on how to eat better and consume less of the world’s limited food resources.” At Eastern Mennonite College, I was part of an intentional community of a dozen students who lived together in a way that sought to maximize communal life while minimizing our impact on the earth and its people.

So what happened? you might ask. How did I get from there to here? My journey was probably not much different from many others here this morning that grew up in other faiths. I loved the church, its hymns, its tight-knit community, the way that it introduced me to the world of spirituality. But, like many others, I was in possession of a double-consciousness. On the one hand, there was the church and family, which nurtured and supported me. On the other, there was the greater world—education, television, literature—which taught me there were many ways of life and many answers to the questions that dogged me.

Even though I grew up in Pennsylvania, a Mennonite stronghold, I went to public schools where there were never more than a handful of my co-religionists. I’ll always remember with a smile how a girl in my high school class asked me if someone of my faith was allowed to marry. I responded, “I’m a Mennonite, not a monk!” I knew I was different from most of my classmates. At the same time, I was not completely at home in the church either. A high-school friend of mine had a revealing dream about me. I was riding a motorcycle on the golf course across from his house. As I wound back and forth, my tires tore through the turf. As I sped away, he perceived that my wheels had traced the words, MENNONITE MENACE!

How many of us here today know what it’s like to feel like a menace—not quite fitting in with the crowd? The questions I developed through high school and college were not uncommon: How can a loving God send people to hell for not accepting Jesus? How do we know that Jesus was really the Son of God? How can it be that only one religion has a corner on the truth?

In the Mennonite Church, I never found answers to those questions I could accept. And so I left, journeying through many religious highways and byways, till I found this faith, where my mind could be free and my tongue not be silent.

Like any immigrant, I’m grateful for my new home and the opportunities it affords. And yet, I would be less than honest if I did not say that I mourn for being an exile from the place of my birth. The Mennonite Church and I had irreconcilable differences and if I had it to do again I would.

But all of us here, whether Unitarian Universalists by birth or choice, can appreciate that there is a duty more pressing than that of birth or blood or comfort. And that is unto our own selves to be true. Unless conscience rule us, we are slaves indeed.

And so, in some way, I feel that I have not left the Mennonite faith, but have, in my own small way, tried to fulfill its mission. Those men and women of long ago who went to dungeon, rack, or grave did not do it for a name, be it Anabaptist, Mennonite, or Unitarian. They did it because they could not conceive of any other life than to do what they felt was right. May each of us profit by their example. May each of us do our part to put the radical back in our Reformation, and follow our hearts—wherever they might lead.

Amen. 

Sources: 

A History of Unitarianism: Socinianism and Its Antecedents

by Earl Morse Wilbur 

The Epic of Unitarianism: Original Writings from the History of

Liberal Religion, ed. David B. Parke 

20 Most Asked Questions About the Amish and Mennonites

by Merle and Phyllis Good 

www.mennolink.org