Mission Focus Vol 13

Mission
FOCUS Contents
Annual Review Editorial ............................. 4
2005 Volume 13 The Non-Pauline Mission in the New Testament
Nancy R. Heisey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5
Editor Thinking Again About Paul’s Mission
W alter Sawatsky Nancy R. Heisey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18
Book Review Editor
Pentecostals and the Brethren in Christ in Bulawayo
Titus Guenther
Daryl Climenhaga . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31
“Seduced by the God of Life” - My Pilgrimage in Mission
Consulting Editors
W illis G. Horst . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
Lois Barrett
A New Call to Mission
Delores Friesen
W illis G. Horst . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49
Nancy Heisey
A Voice in the W ilderness - the Protestant Pacifist
Alan Kreider
Movement in China of the Twentieth Century
Art McPhee
Kevin Xiyi Yao . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 57
MCC, Intervention, and “Humanitarianism”
Address
correspondence to: Peter Dula & Alain Epp W eaver . . . . . . . . . 68
Mission Focus: Conference Papers: Mission in Global and Anabaptist
Annual Review Perspective
3003 Benham Ave. Mission in Global Perspective
Elkhart, Indiana W ilbert R. Shenk . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 82
46517-1999 USA Responses to Mission in Global Perspective
waltersawatsky@cs.com Jan Bender Shetler & Darrell W hiteman . . . 92
Mission in Anabaptist Perspective
Send Reviews to: W ilbert R. Shenk . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 97
tguenther@cmu.edu Responses to Mission in Anabaptist Perspective
John A. Lapp & Ron Flaming . . . . . . . . . . 107
Subscription rate:
Missiology and Anabaptist Ecclesiology: Challenges to
$10.00 per year
hhoover@ambs.edu Building Peace
Jaime Adrían Prieto Valladares . . . . . . . . . 113
Mission Focus: Mennonites and Mission in Euroasia
Annual Review is W alter Sawatsky . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 128
published annually Mennonites and Mission in Euro-Central Asia
David W . Shenk . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 136
Evangelical Missiology in W estern Europe - An Anabaptist
Perspective
Bernhard Ott . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 141
Rediscovering the Mennonite Identity in Taiwan: Reflection on
Mennonites Missions in Taiwan from an Insider’s Perspective
Chiou-Lang (Paulus) Pan . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155
The Changing Face of the Protestant Church in China

Kevin Xiyi Yao . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 166
Forum: Mission Studies in Theological Education - Current

Directions
Darrell W hiteman, Jehu Hanciles, James Stamoolis,
W alter Sawatsky . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174
Ecumenical Missiology in Anabaptist Perspective

Andrew W alls . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191
BOOK REVIEW S . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199-224

James Krabill, David Shenk, and Linford Stutzman, eds.
Anabaptists Meeting Muslims: A Calling for Presence in the Way
of Christ. (Roelf Kuitse)
Peter F. Penner. ed. Christian Presence and Witness Among

Muslims. (Gerald Shenk)
Samuel Escobar, Changing Tides: Latin America & World

Mission Today. (Juan Martínez)
Arthur G. McPhee, The Road to Delhi: Bishop Pickett

Remembered 1890-1981. (John A. Lapp)
D. Preman Niles, From East to West: Rethinking Christian

Mission . (C. René Padilla)
W alter W . Sawatsky and Peter F. Penner, eds. Mission in the

Former Soviet Union. (Johannes Reimer)
Hans Kasdorf, Design of My Journey. An Autobiography. (W alter

Sawatsky)
James R Nikkel, Church Planting Road Map. (Daryl

Climenhaga)
Nancy R. Heisey, Origen the Egyptian: A Literary and Historical
Consideration of the Egyptian Background in Origen’s Writings
on Martyrdom. (John A. Lapp)
Mary H. Schertz and Ivan Friesen, eds. Beautiful upon the

Mountains: Biblical Essays on Mission, Peace, and the Reign of
God. (Titus F. Guenther)
Antonio González, Reinado de Dios e imperio: Ensayo de

teología social. (Gustav Guenther)
Harry J. Huebner, Echoes of the Word: Theological Ethics as

Rhetorical Practice. (Peter Dula)
John F. Haught, edited by Carl S. Helrich, Purpose, Evolution

and the Meaning of Life. (Glenn R. Klassen)
Editorial 4
Editorial
Perspective is central to many articles in this issue of Mission Focus. The angle of vision
matters, especially when attempting to see from the other’s point of view. Although such self-
awareness about what shapes our seeing and thinking is currently in style, this issues highlights the
responsibility inherent in offering a perspective. When we realize the way the Lukan account of
Christian mission in the Book of Acts has trained the eye to look to western Europe, then to follow
Nancy Heisey’s sleuthing of the New Testament sources to discover where else mission went,
particularly to the east and south, is to cause us to recenter what was too long marginalized. Study and
reflection on years of ministry in Bulawayo or in the Argentine Chaco caused Climenhaga and Horst
respectively to notice factors and explanations too easily misread formerly. Willis Horst,
contemplating retirement after more than three decades walking with Toba believers, offers not only
a reflection on his pilgrimage, but has also articulated a passionate New Call to Mission - it deserves
commentary or response from other parts of our world. It takes the experience of careful reading of
many sources to discover the pacifist movement in China, that was so closely intertwined with China
mission, and it takes the experience of Rwanda, Sudan, Iraq and the Middle East to notice that too
often “humanitarianism” has deserved the quotation marks that Dula and Epp Weaver employ to warn
against too easy collaboration in actions that do not make for peace. Authentic Christian witness is
at stake.
The second section of this annual review presents the main papers and responses to the
keynote lectures (by Wilbert Shenk) from a conference, co-sponsored by the Mission Studies Center
at AMBS and the Association of Anabaptist-Mennonite Missiologists. Entitled “Mission in Global
and Anabaptist Perspective”, held November 11-12, 2005. It stimulated much discussion and
reflection. Is there something from the Anabaptist-Mennonite tradition and experience that could
prove helpful for mission in the 21st century? was a question raised in a variety of ways. It appears to
be a time when Anabaptist missiologies, now also shaped by contrasting experiences in many
continents and regions, are welcome at evangelical and ecumenical tables of discussion. The
conference was also graced by representatives from the Schools of World Mission (or now called
Schools of Intercultural Studies) at Fuller Seminary, Asbury Seminary and Trinity International
University, offering insights on current directions and inviting Mennonite students. They were part
of a larger group also gathered to honor Wilbert Shenk on his retirement with a Festschrift titled
Evangelical, Ecumenical and Anabaptist Missiologies in Conversation. It will be published by Orbis
Books in April 2006. Andrew Walls’ paper offers a foretaste.
Finally, over a dozen book reviews point to new thinking and rethinking that practitioners
and teachers will read with profit. The themes include Christian presence among Muslims, mission
in Latin America, the former Soviet Union, India plus biographical and autobiographical studies.
Other books on Patristics, Biblical studies, ethics and philosophy turn out to speak directly to
missiology. We are in debt to many reviewers and authors.
Walter Sawatsky
THE NON-PAULINE M ISSION IN THE NEW TESTAM ENT
Nancy R. Heisey
Northern Christians and the Global Christian M ovement

Understanding the relationship between the New Testament canon and our view
of early Christian mission can help us as Northern Christians work together in a more
wholesome way with sisters and brothers in the global South. Northern Christians (a label
sometimes used for those of us with roots in Europe, Canada, and the United States) have
for at least a century been moving toward an acknowledgment that the Christian movement
is global. The 1910 W orld M issionary Conference in Edinburgh, Scotland, (the beginning
of the twentieth-century ecumenical movement), while focused on the vision of evangelizing
the world in their own generation, included fourteen delegates from the “younger” churches
appointed by missionary societies. Apparently the W orld M issionary Conference executive,
headed by John R. M ott, was sensitive to the fact that this representation was very small, for
it directly appointed three other members from southern churches and assigned six of the
47 public addresses during the conference to them. 1 Since the 1970s, and with greater
energy as we entered the twenty-first century, missiologists and sociologists have taken note
of the explosion of Christian movements in the global South.2
Mennonites, including Mennonite Brethren and Brethren in Christ, have come to
this understanding somewhat slowly. A photo essay detailing the early history of Mennonite
W orld Conference presented photographs of attendees from 1925, 1930, and 1936, all well
dressed Europeans and North Americans. In 1948, however, a photograph was specifically
taken of the delegates from “overseas,” in which two persons dressed in non-Western
clothing were visible in the front row. 3 International conference statements from Puerto
Rico in 1975, Hesston, Kansas, 1978, and Strasbourg, France, in 1984 commented on the
growing geographical and ethnic diversity within the Mennonite and Brethren in Christ
community. 4 The formation of the International Brethren in Christ Fellowship in 1978 and
1
Ruth Rouse and Stephen Charles Neill, A History of the Ecumenical Movement 1517-1948
(Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1954) 359.
2
Walbert Bühlmann, The Coming of the Third Church (Maryknoll, N. Y.: Orbis, 1978); Philip Jenkins,
The Next Christendom: The Coming of Global Christianity (Oxford University Press, 2002); Ben M. Carter, A
New Christian Paradigm: The Making of Post-Protestant Christianity (North Richland Hills, Tex.: BIBAL Press,
2000).
3
Cornelius J. Dyck and Robert Kreider, eds., “Mennonite World Conference in Review—A
Photographic Essay,” Mennonite Life 33 (1978), 4-23.
4
Wilbert R. Shenk, God’s New Economy in Mission (Elkhart, IN: Mission Focus, 1978), appendices
1, 2, and 3.
Nancy R. Heisey, Ph.D. teaches in the Bible and Religion Department of Eastern Mennonite
University, Harrisonburg, VA and is President of Mennonite World Conference. This was
first presented as the Janzen Lecture at Fresno Pacific University, January 2005.
M ission Focus: Annual Review © 2005 Volum e 13

6 The Non-Pauline Mission in the New Testam ent
the International Committee of Mennonite Brethren (ICOM B) in 1990 represent other

examples of this growing awareness.
The Global Mission Fellowship (GMF) of Anabaptist-related churches and
missions groups from around the world, formally initiated in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, in 2003
during the fourteenth assembly of M ennonite W orld Conference, represents another stage
of this awakening. The recent announcement of the second gathering of the GMF, made
during the November 2004 meeting of the Asia Mennonite Conference in India, 5 represents
an interesting return to one of the regions from which northern Mennonite mission began.
It may also be a recognition by leaders of contemporary Mennonite mission efforts of the
importance of a globally authentic witness in a twenty-first-century world torn apart by war
and religious and ethnic violence. The location for the 2006 GMF is to be Almaty, the
former capital of Kazakhstan, part of predominantly Muslim Central Asia but also the
voluntary and involuntary home for many Russian-German Mennonites in the 20 th century.
This choice of location may be linked to the memory that among the first “northern”
Mennonite cross-cultural missionaries was a group of Russian Mennonite who went to
Indonesia in the late nineteenth century.6 Today, in a climate where the most powerful
nation in the world, thought by many to be a “Christian” nation, is making war among the
Muslim peoples of the Middle East and Central Asia, we may hope that a group of people,
committed to the gospel of peace and visibly not dominated by Northerners, can have
meaningful opportunities for witness in that part of the world.
Throughout our history, Mennonites have based our missionary efforts in the New
Testament. Foremost among the texts which inspire and shape missionary methods for
cross-cultural settings has been the book of Acts with its portrayal of Paul’s efforts in Asia
Minor and the Aegean region. There is little question that Acts plays a central role in most
contemporary Christians’ views of the early Christian movement and its expansion. I am
often struck and bemused by the observation that my students at Eastern Mennonite
University—those with some level of biblical awareness— know about Paul’s
adventuresome travels as “the first missionary,” as described in Acts. Yet they have very
little idea of what Paul actually says in his letters.
M issiology of Acts as Shaper of Contemporary Thinking

That reality leads me to explore how contemporary Northern understandings of
Christian origins intersect with and influence contemporary Christian missiology. If we
assume that missiology and theology are intimately related, thus challenging the
marginalizing of mission within the theological enterprise, then it can be useful to think
5
“Plan global gathering,” photo caption in The Mennonite, Dec. 21, 2004, 19.
6
See Alle Hoekema, Dutch Mennonite Mission in Indonesia. Historical Essays, (Elkhart: IMS, 2001)
chap. 4 for details. On the ancient Christian presence in several regions of Central Asia that have been home to
Mennonites, see the entries on “Kazakhstan” and “Krygyzstan” in Encyclopedia of Christianity, vol. 3.
Nancy R. Heisey 7
about Acts’ influence on perceptions of contemporary missionary theology.7 David Smith,

professor in the department of Biblical studies at Taylor University, asserts that the
theological significance of Acts is related to its role in the formation of the New Testament
canon.8 According to Smith, the traditional view has been that the inclusion of Acts itself
in the New Testament canon was directly tied to its giving the majority of its space to the
story of Paul. Yet looking at the content of Acts and its use among early Christian writers
demonstrates a different reason for Acts’ canonicity, that is, its function as “glue:”
It takes in hand, so to speak, the ‘predictions’ of the prophets of Israel (as
represented by the Old Testament), the coming of the Messiah (as
represented by the Gospels), the teachings of Paul (as represented by the
Pauline epistles), and the teachings of the Jerusalem apostles (as
represented by the catholic epistles and Revelation), and ties them all
together by uniting the texts of the Old Testament with the authoritative
persons of the New Testament— namely, Jesus, the Jerusalem apostles,
and Paul… .(T)he unparalleled references to the Holy Spirit in Acts
establish this unifying function above all else.9
Smith spends considerable time later in his work outlining the apocryphal Acts of
Peter, John, and Paul, to show why they were not canonized: they did not offer a view of
how apostolic authority was to be handed on, and they gave little if any role to the Holy
Spirit to demonstrate the unity of all the scriptures, both Old and N ew Testaments.10
Although in his earlier discussion of second- through fourth-century Christian writers he
makes frequent note of their polemic against heretics (whose errors included more exclusive
views of what texts were authoritative), Smith does not link the actual production of the
apocryphal Acts with heretical groups, as the popular mind tends to do. He does, however,
suggest that his understanding of the role of Acts in forming the New Testament canon
offers insights for dealing with the diversity of contemporary “catholic” Christianity.
Calling for “all voices to be heard,” he refers to the geographical diversity of the patristic
witness in “Palestine, Asia Minor, Rome, Gaul, North Africa, and Egypt.” 11 Further, he
perceives the characteristic Christian move to select a canon within the canon as useful in
cementing the unity in diversity required for Christian witness. In the first century this move
was reflected as Jewish Christians kept the Torah but decided Gentiles were not required to
keep it, making the Torah “‘authoritative’ over Gentile Christians and nonbinding at the
same time.” 12
Smith, then, sees the New Testament canon as represented in Acts’ gathering
7
David J. Bosch, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in the Theology of Mission (Maryknoll, NY:
Orbis, 1991), 489-498.
8
David E. Smith, The Canonical Function of Acts: A Comparative Analysis (Collegeville, MN: The
Liturgical Press, 2002).
9
Smith, 41, 49-50.
10
Smith, 104-5.
11
Smith, 120.
12
Smith, 122.
together of the entire story of God’s working with humanity, the story that the writer of Acts
obviously wishes his readers to see themselves as part of. Missiological issues are not
directly present in Smith’s discussion. However, I suggest that the historical impact of Acts
within the New Testament canon has created a missiological problem for contemporary
Northern Christians. The canonical force of Acts, founded on its missionary theology, has
over centuries also become the focus of Christian history and geography. Does an “Actsian”
missiology require an Actsian geography and history? W hat has Acts done to our reading
of the global Christian story, with its view of the sweep of Christian expansion from
Jerusalem to Rome, and with Rome as the jumping off point for the expansion of the faith
into Europe?
It is precisely at this point that I wish to turn to my primary task here, to offer an
interpretation of the work of French exegete Lucien Legrand on the understandings that
underpinned Paul’s mission. I offer this focused attention to Legrand’s work because it is
written in French and hence less accessible to many North Americans. It is my perception
that the canonical function of Acts, including, if Smith is correct, its “canon within a canon”
role, has not been helpful to Christian understandings of the historical-geographical
construction of the movement. A glance at the maps in the back of most of our Bibles helps
to make this clear. Most of those map collections include one titled “New Testament world”
or “Journeys of the Apostle Paul.” W hen we look at the borders of those particular maps,
familiarity may impede our ability to see what is missing. For the maps are usually cut off
just at the Nile Delta and Damascus. Despite Acts’ nod to the reality of a non-Pauline
movement, in its recital of Philip’s encounter with the Ethiopian official in chapter 8, these
maps do not have room to include Meroe, the capital of Nubia (in today’s northern Sudan)
where this official served the Kandak of that land.13
Legrand, a long-time professor in India, rightly insists that “spontaneous
generation” is inadequate as an explanation of the Christian movement east- and southward.
Yet the narrative of Acts, even though it is called “of the Apostles,” does not go in an
eastern direction beyond the Jerusalem-Damascus-Antioch axis and, as we have already
noticed, makes only a passing mention of the southward spread of the gospel. Any
dependence on apocryphal writings to determine parts of that story not only carries the
limitations identified by Smith’s work, but also moves us even further in the direction of
legendary and traditional literature. Thus Legrand proposes a renewed search within the
New Testament canon itself for a different approach to the question of early Christian
geography, one that goes beyond the map of Acts. Can the eastward movement of the
Gospel be based in the biblical record itself? “W hy,” Legrand asks, “did (Paul), the Apostle
of the Nations (Gentiles) turn toward Europe and not toward Asia?… .W hy, sent to the
nations, did his vision push him toward Spain and not toward India?” W ith that question in
13
See also Nancy R. Heisey, “Anabaptist Heritage and Faithful Diversity,” Brethren in Christ History
and Life 26 (August 2003), 95-96.
Nancy R. Heisey 9
mind, Legrand takes us to Galatians 2, where Paul in defense of his own apostleship outlines
the strategy to which he and the leaders of the Jerusalem church agreed.14
Paul’s M ission and Other New Testament M issions

Near the end of Paul’s missionary career, at least from a canonical perspective,
Paul summarizes in his letter to the Romans what he has accomplished and what he still
hopes to do: “From Jerusalem as far around as Illyricum I have fully proclaimed the good
news of Christ” (15:19). This comment sounds like an overstatement, since the circle Paul
mentions runs only along the eastern Mediterranean coast, through Asia Minor, across the
Aegean into Macedonia and through what is contemporary Albania. The fact that he makes
this comment as he expresses the goal of traveling to Rome and then westward to Spain
(15:23-24) does not change the fact that he makes no mention of significant other
geographical regions known to residents of the Mediterranean region: Egypt and Ethiopia
(the Hebrew Cush; today northern Sudan) to the south, and Persia and east beyond the Indus
River. A map according to the description of the first-century B.C.E. Roman geographer
Strabo reflects the known world from this Mediterranean perspective. 15 Strabo’s
geographical perspective has been understood to support the budding imperial worldview
of Augustus. 16 Nevertheless, this map clearly indicates the significance of regions outside
Roman control. The Jewish Diaspora, albeit with a very different self-perception, had for
centuries been rooted both in Persia, and as far south as Elephantine, on the first cataract of
the Nile River (the acknowledged southern border of the Roman Empire).
Another representation of the first-century Jewish perspective, the catalogue of
nations in Acts 2:9-11, which frames a world centered around Jerusalem, includes the distant
eastern regions of Parthia, M edia, and Elam, and southern regions from Arabia (Jordan),
Cyrene (Libya), and Egypt. Europe is only represented by Rome. 17 The impact of this
geographical point of view, based on a biblical reading, can still be seen in a sixteenth-
century map that is shaped like a three-leaf clover with Jerusalem at the center. 18 In a first-
century letter of King Agrippa I to Emperor Caligula, reported by Philo, a more extensive
list of regions where Jews lived mentions colonies in Europe, but only along the eastern
(Aegean) coastline.19
14
Lucien Legrand, L’Apôtre des nations? Paul et la stratégie missionnaire des églises apostoliques
(Paris: Éditions du Cerf, 2001), 11-12. All translations from Legrand are my own.
15
Legrand, 20, 23.
16
Nicholas Purcell, “Strabo,” Oxford Classical Dictionary, 3rd ed. (Oxford University Press, 1996);
for more detail on Strabo’s world see Samuel H. Moffett, A History of Christianity in Asia. Vol. 1: Beginnings
to 1500. (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, rev’d ed. 1998) 4-6; 30; Strabo, Geographica, English edition usually cited
from Loeb Classical Library (London 1917).
17
NRSV1990 Zondervan edition, 1231; see also J. A. Brinkman, “The Literary Background of the
Catalogue of Nations’ (Acts 2:9-11),” Catholic Biblical Quarterly 25 (October 1963), 418-427.
18
Legrand, 25, 112.
19
Legrand, Philo Legation 281.
Paul frequently describes himself as the “apostle to the nations/Gentiles”(Rom

11:13, Gal 1:16, 2:2, 8). This language has unconsciously conveyed to twenty-first-century
Northerners the idea of Paul as a missionary to the world; but from the perspective of a first-
century Diaspora Jew, as reflected in Acts 2 and the letter of Agrippa, clearly the whole
world was not in view for Paul’s mission. Japanese biblical scholar Takashi Kato argues
that the dissonance between these two geographical perspectives, one Rome-centered and
the other reflecting the traditional view of the Jewish Diaspora, comes from Luke’s Euro-
centric orientation. Thus Luke’s orientation assumed that the gospel must first reach the
capital of the empire, and only from that point would it be able to conquer the world.
Although the overarching framework of Acts is Rome-centered, however, Luke himself in
Acts 2 represents the Jewish Diaspora perspective, as we have seen. Further, Paul’s
comments in Romans also seem “Euro-centric.” W hile Luke may have failed to critique the
threat of Roman hegemony to the expanding Christian movement, it would seem strange that
Paul, a Diaspora Jew, would share that perspective. These questions suggest the need to
look more carefully at what Paul’s understanding of his missionary mandate was. 20
Central to how Paul viewed his mission is his statement in Galatians 2:9 that James,
Cephas, and John “gave to Barnabas and me the right hand of fellowship, agreeing that we
should go to the Gentiles and they to the circumcised.” W hat was the understanding that
Paul and Barnabas outlined together with the Jerusalem “pillars”? Should the division of
labor be understood as ethnic, geographic, or “kerygmatic”? Several New Testament
scholars have proposed what Legrand labels a kerygmatic interpretation, an understanding
that might more accurately be titled a religious praxis perspective. That is, the mission to
the Jews assumed the continuation of Torah observance among Jewish Jesus believers, while
Paul’s mission to the nations proclaimed the law-free gospel spelled out in Galatians. Such
an agreed-upon distinction between Peter’s mission to Jews and Paul’s to Gentiles could be
suggested by the earlier statement in Galatians 2:7.21
Offering a slightly different perspective than verse 9, Gal. 2:7 notes that “the
acknowledged (Jerusalem) leaders” (v. 6) “saw that (Paul—not Paul and Barnabas) had been
“entrusted with the gospel for the uncircumcised,” just as Peter (not all three pillars) had
been “entrusted with the gospel for the circumcised.” This hints that Peter was at the center
of the Jerusalem leadership as well as primarily responsible for spreading the message of
Jesus. Most scholars have read the report in verse 11 of Peter coming to Antioch as a sign
that the Jerusalem leadership had passed to James, especially since verse 12 reports that
people then came to Antioch “from James.”
Legrand challenges such a reading as reflective of a later theology that assumes
20
Legrand, 34-36. Takashi Kato, La pensée sociale de Luc-Actes, Etudes d’histoire et philosophie
religieuses (Paris: Presses universitaires, 1997), 262-266.
21
Legrand, 43-49; Michael Goulder, A Tale of Two Missions (London: SCM, 1994); see also John G.
Gager, Reinventing Paul (Oxford University Press, 2000).
Nancy R. Heisey 11
church and mission leadership to be separate. Paul certainly does not understand things that
way, proclaiming that he was “called to be an apostle, set apart for the gospel of God” (Rom
1:1); Legrand proposes that neither did Peter. Elsewhere in Acts, this early Christian belief
that leadership in the church and responsibility for spreading the gospel go together is
reflected by the itinerancy of Philip (ch. 8) after his call to help administer the life of the
community in Jerusalem (ch. 6). Legrand summarizes:
“The Jerusalem meeting was thinking of regions which, from an ethnico-
religious perspective, that of the Israelites, could be considered as either
Judaized or not… . Paul, traveling into Europe, was going to address
himself to the world of the Nations, to the Uncircumcision. On the other
hand, Alexandria and Egypt, Babylon and Persia were the world marked
by the knowledge, and even in a certain measure the recognition, of what
Israel meant. It was this vast world, and not Palestine alone, which
became the province of the Jerusalem apostles.” 22
After establishing this ethnic and geographic base for Paul’s mission to the nations,
Legrand proceeds to the question of what the New Testament canon might reveal about the
ongoing first-century mission to the Jewish Diaspora. Agreeing with Smith that the shape
of the New Testament canon is strongly marked by its understanding of Paul’s mission, he
returns to the beginning of Acts to pursue the question about the mission given to Peter and
the other Jerusalem apostles. Suggesting that the Lukan list of nations is tied to Peter as the
Pentecost preacher, he adds, “Acts 2:9-11 enumerates the regions that Luke knew were
touched by the gospel proclamation but were not part of Paul’s evangelistic program.” Of
the five provinces of Asia that are listed, only Phyrgia and Pamphilia, according to Acts,
were included in Paul’s activity, and these, according to Acts, were in Paul’s field of activity
only before his agreement with the Jerusalem leaders (Legrand equates the meeting outlined
in Galatians 2 with the Jerusalem Council account of Acts 15.) 23
Following the Jerusalem Council, according to Acts, we find the puzzling passage
of chapter 16 where Paul and his companions are “forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the
word in Asia” (16:6). Immediately thereafter comes Paul’s vision in Troas and the crossing
over of his party to Macedonia. Legrand suggests that Acts 16 reveals an understanding of
the agreement Paul described in Galatians 2, proposing that Luke indirectly underlines the
division of geographical mission areas. He then turns to two other New Testament lists, first
the list of the “exiles of the Dispersion” of 1 Peter 1:1. A striking correspondence exists
between Peter’s letter and the lists in Acts 2 and 16:
Acts 2 & 16 1 Peter 1
Cappadocia Cappadocia
Pontus Pontus
Bithynia Bithynia
22
Legrand, 56-61.
23
Legrand, 63-65.
Asia Asia
Galatia Galatia
Phrygia
Pamphylia 24
W hile 1 Peter has generally been understood to be addressed to Gentile believers,

those believers were resident in a region with a strong Jewish population. Peter’s use of the
terms “exile” and “Diaspora,” and the strong theme throughout the letter that the believing
community are “strangers” indicate a clear identification with Jewish experience. Indeed,
one study describes the letter, whoever the addressees, as bearing a strong “Jewish aspect,”
representative of a sending community in Rome. 25 Peter’s letter, then, well represents a
mission within the framework of Peter’s Diaspora proclamation. Indeed, if Gentile believers
first received the news of Jesus within a Jewish setting, they might later find themselves
doubly exiled, both from their pagan background and the Jewish community who later
repudiated them for failing to follow Torah.26
Turning to a second list, the letters to the churches in Revelation, it can be noted
of the seven churches addressed— Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis,
Philadelphia, and Laodicea—only Ephesus is connected with Paul’s mission (Rev. 1:11).
As evidence of a different character for these churches in John’s orbit, it is noteworthy that
the letters of Pergamum and Thyatira both strongly condemn members of the community
who permitted the eating of food offered to idols (2:14; 2:20). W hile this approach clearly
reflects the instructions of the letter of James in Acts (15:20, 29), it varies from Paul’s
comments on the same issue in 1 Corinthians, when he identifies those who are troubled by
eating such food as those of “weak conscience.” (See also Romans 14:2). W hile Paul does
not disregard the counsel of James, he seems clearly to be addressing a setting where the
degree of Jewish sensitivity on this question is less central to community life.27
Legrand concludes from these observations that the New Testament canon, while
focusing on Paul’s mission and his writing, offers evidence of the existence of other Jewish
missionary movements within the early Jesus-believing community. Paul’s letter to the
Roman house churches, whom he had not met (Rom 1:8,13), is itself an obvious New
Testament admission that others besides Paul spread the earliest message of Jesus. Acts as
well, with Paul’s pre-Christian desire to stamp out Jesus-believing communities already
existing in Damascus, the dispersion of believers from Jerusalem after the martyrdom of
Stephen, and Peter’s work in Antioch, insists that the first missionary activity was directed
to Jews. Further, communities within the Jewish orbit such as Samaritans and an Ethiopian
24
Legrand, 69.
25
Raymond E. Brown and John P. Meier, Antioch and Rome: New Testament Cradles of Catholic
Christianity (New York: Paulist Press, 1983), 133.
26
Legrand, 70.
27
Legrand, 71-72.
Nancy R. Heisey 13
who had come to Jerusalem “to worship” (8:27) fill the early chapters of Acts. Legrand thus
agrees with others that “the church which would become the ‘great church’ of the second
and third centuries… opposed a privileged position for any one apostle.” 28 Neither should
the early Christian effort be framed as a division of labor solely between Peter and Paul.
The New Testament witness is to different churches, shaped by the particular missions of
29
Paul, Peter, James and John.
Cities W here Apostolic M issions Intersected

Revelation’s letter to Ephesus nevertheless calls us to think further about parts of
the New Testament world where the activities of Paul’s mission to the nations intersected
with regions that were likely part of the mission to the circumcised; in addition to Ephesus,
those cities included Antioch, Corinth and Rome. Beginning with Antioch, Acts reports that
the city was reached by believers fleeing persecution in Jerusalem in the context of
Stephen’s martyrdom. In this capital of the Roman east, the text reports, “they spoke to no
one except Jews” (Acts 11:19). The Jerusalem leaders send Barnabas to Antioch in
response to reports of growth in the church there (11:22), and Barnabas in turn brings Paul
to assist in the work (11:25-26). Antioch becomes the center of Barnabas’ and Paul’s
mission until the time of the Jerusalem Council of Acts 15, after which time Paul and
Barnabas separate, and Paul heads to M acedonia with Silas (Acts 16:1-10). According to
Acts, the rest of Paul’s travels are concentrated in the Aegean basin, which we have already
seen is located geographically in the realm of “the nations.” W hile it is not the the concern
here to tease out all the recent debate about the relationship between the Acts and Galatians
accounts, it must be noted that in Galatians 2, after outlining his agreement with the
Jerusalem apostles, Paul reports his confrontation of Peter precisely in Antioch, over issues
of other Jewish Christian teaching about how Gentile believers were to behave (Gal 2:11-
14). Paul provides no further autobiographical detail after this comment, but his letter-
writing career supports the Acts account that from then on his work was carried out
primarily in Europe.30
Much of the later mission to the nations, according to both Acts and Paul’s letters,
was centered in Ephesus. Both Acts and Paul refer, although obliquely, to both his work
there and to tension with other Jewish Jesus believers. There is the hint of a Diaspora
mission from Alexandria, in the note about the powerful preaching of Apollos in Ephesus,
and Paul’s later meeting with this church (Acts 18:24-28; 19:1). Jewish exorcists who used
“the name of the Lord Jesus” as Paul did were repudiated (Acts 19:13-16). Paul somewhat
enigmatically describes his battle with “wild animals at Ephesus” (in 1 Corinthians 15:32)
28
François Bovon, “The Canonical Structure of Gospel and Apostle,” The Canon Debate, ed., Lee
Martin McDonald and James A. Sanders (Peabody, Mass.: Hendrickson Publishers, 2002) 522.
29
Legrand, 74.
30
Legrand, 76-78.
but then proclaims “a wide open door for effective work” in that city (16:9). It is surprising
that Legrand does not refer at all here to the traditional link between John and Ephesus.
This may be because that tradition is reported only from the second century. 31 As far as the
first-century mission, then, Legrand suggests that, in contrast to what took place in Antioch,
in Ephesus Paul’s vision for mission prevailed. W hatever approach one takes to the nature
or degree of ongoing conflict between Paul and the other apostles, the record of Acts makes
clear that Paul’s Ephesus link remained strong, while the apostle to the nations made no
further contact with the church in Antioch, even during his final trip to Jerusalem (Acts
20:17-35; 21:1-15).32
Corinth, a city mentioned in Agrippa’s letter to Caligula as part of the Jewish
Diaspora, was home, according to archeological evidence, to only a small Jewish
community. Yet Paul’s letters to Corinth provide ample evidence that this city was a point
of intersection of the two missions, with a resulting significant degree of friction. Again,
surprisingly, Legrand does not refer to the description of conflict that Paul lays out in his
first letter, between the parties claiming allegiance to himself, to Christ, and to two other
representatives of the Diaspora mission: Cephas (Peter) and Apollos. However, Paul does
not seem to feel his own work threatened at this point; indeed, he views the Corinthian
conflict as a sign of spiritual immaturity (1 Cor 3:1), presents his work as complementary
to that of Apollos (3:6), and indicates in his conclusion an ongoing working relationship
with the Alexandrian preacher (16:12). In 2 Corinthians 10-13, however, Paul is at his most
defensive in response to criticism and challenge from other “false,” “super apostles” (11:5,
13). W hile Paul does not use the key words “circumcision” and “law” in his reply to his
opponents, it seems likely that they are also Jewish Christians. Paul tells the Corinthians
quite firmly that he came first to Corinth understanding that he was within “the field that
God has assigned to us” (2 Cor 10:13 NRSV). The Greek expression translated as “field,”
literally reads “the measure of the canon.” Traditionally this expression has been given a
theological sense, as in the King James Version’s “the measure of the rule which God has
distributed to us.” However, an inscription discovered in Galatia clarifies that the term
“canon” could also be understood geographically.33 The following verses seem as well to
refer to the agreement with the other apostles as Paul understood it: “For we were not
overstepping our limits when we reached you; we were the first to come all the way to you
with the good news of Christ… .so that we may proclaim the good news in lands beyond you,
without boasting of work already done in someone else’s sphere of action” (again, here, the
term translated “sphere” in the NRSV is “canon”) (10:14, 16). Legrand thus proposes that
31
Richard E. Oster, Jr., “Ephesus,” Anchor Bible Dictionary Vol. 2 (New York: Doubleday, 1992)
548-9.
32
Legrand, 78-80. On Paul’s missionary journey see also David Wenham, Paul and Jesus: The True
Story. (Grand Rapids MI: Eerdmans, 2002), 121-126..
33
J. F. Strange, “Second Corinthians 10:13-16 illuminated by a recently published Inscription,”
Biblical Archeologist, 46 (1983), 168.
Nancy R. Heisey 15
the geographical sense of the agreement dealt with situations like Corinth, which were
primarily within the framework of the nations, even though they contained small Jewish
populations. 34
Rome, Paul’s last reported destination according to Acts, was described by Paul
in his letter to the Romans as a jumping-off point for his proposed mission further to the
west. Since Legrand’s analysis echoes much that I discussed earlier on Romans 13,35 it is
important to note only his argument that in Rome Paul accepts his mission as an intersection
with the mission to the Jewish Diaspora. In the process, given the mixed nature of the group
in Rome, he avoids the polemical approach of the letter to the Galatians and the sorrowful
tone of 2 Corinthians. As in the other cities on the borders between the world of traditional
Jewish presence and influence, the situation that Paul addressed in Rome was difficult. It
is significant, finally, that Christian tradition eventually portrayed Rome as belonging to
both Peter and Paul, marked by their common martyrdom there.36
Paul’s M ission and the Collection

Having considered this variety of places where the text of Acts and Paul’s letters
sustain a geographical understanding of the Jerusalem accord, Legrand turns to the final
element in the agreement with the Jerusalem apostles. As Paul describes it, some kind of
condition was applied to seal their discussion: the “one thing” that they asked (Gal 2:10).
Legrand notes that commentators traditionally gave little notice or significance to this
phrase. 37 Recently, however, the connection between Paul’s note in Galatians and his other
references to the collection he was gathering for Jerusalem (1 Cor 16:1-3; 2 Cor. 8-9; Rom
15:25-29) has received a great deal of attention. Legrand rightly insists that the call to
“remember the poor,” which Paul notes he has already been preparing for (Gal 2:10) was
not a second thought, but central to the mission strategy of the early believers.
W hile this advice to “remember the poor” has often been described as essentially
a financial obligation, Richard Longenecker sees it not simply as a gift of material resources,
but rather “an idiomatic expression” meaning to “keep (someone) in mind as worthy of
affection or recognition.” 38 The “poor” were the saints in Jerusalem, whose situation
reflected the material poverty of a region that had suffered from famine as well as a
community who had sought to live out a radical view of sharing possessions (Acts 2:43-47,
4:32-37). N oting a parallel with several Dead Seas Scrolls texts (1QH 5.21, 1QM 14.7),
where the community of the poor described a spiritual reality as well, Legrand suggests that
the sense of material poverty and spiritual humility before God were joined in the manner
34
Legrand, 80-87.
35
See my “Thinking Again About Paul’s Mission”, in this issue, xx-xx.
36
Legrand, 93-95.
37
Legrand, 98, n. 1.
38
Richard Longenecker, Galatians, Word Biblical Commentary 41 (Dallas, TX: Word Books, 1990),
60.
in which the Jerusalem church was perceived. The significance of linking this condition to
“remember the poor” with the spiritual and material experience of the first believers was
perceived in Augustine’s commentary on Galatians:
The apostles together took responsibility for the poor among the
Christians of Judea who had sold their goods and laid them at the feet of
the apostles. In the same way, when Paul and Barnabas were sent to the
Gentiles, it was understood that the Gentile churches who had not
participated in that first sharing would be invited to respond to the needs
of those who first participated.39
This shared commitment showed the sense of both Paul and the others about the dangers of
dividing the mission geographically; the potential for the evolution of two different, separate
communities would be great. In response, they agreed on a long-term sharing plan with both
theological and practical ramifications. 40
Legrand concludes his study with a sharp critique of the perspective from which
Northern Christians have long read the New Testament:
“By reading Acts in a way that makes the ‘conquest of the W est’ by Paul
and the conversion of Europe the high point of the divine salvation
project, the western world of the “pagan” nations commits the error
against which Paul had already warned them (in Rom 11)… .Paul’s
warning was not heard. The west came to perceive itself as the trunk (of
the olive tree), including in the presuppositions with which it reads the
Bible.” 41
Although the New Testament canon gives greatest visibility to the missions of Paul and
Peter, the missions of James and John are also visible in its pages. Legrand notes that Indian
theologians have long showed great interest in the Johannine writings and their missionary
impact. This interest reflects that it is not a question of Pauline writings being missionary
and the legacy of John being theological; rather, it underlines the presence of different
streams of missionary interest in the New Testament.42
Conclusion
In a few concluding comments I want to outline several other aspects of Legrand’s
study that in my view call for further reflection.
1. This view of how the New Testament record reveals an agreement for both
geographically and ethnically diverse missions pushes contemporary Northerners to
understand why Christians around the world need a Christian story that is their own, and
urges us to support their unearthing and telling that story. If the spread of the gospel in the
39
Augustine Commentary to the Galatians in Migne PL 35, 2113.14.
40
Legrand, 98-108. See also Dieter Georgi, Remembering the Poor: The History of Paul’s Collection
for Jerusalem (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1992); also Wenham, 125-126.
41
Legrand, 115.
42
Legrand, 116-119; 121-122.
Nancy R. Heisey 17
first century was not primarily Paul’s responsibility, we must be challenged to allow for
stories of the planting and growth of the church that do not need to go through us; or, when
these stories acknowledge a historical role for Northern churches, we need to learn to read
them without making our role central to how Southern sisters and brothers read the Bible
and seek to be faithful to Christ. Neither should we urge sister churches around the world
to subscribe to a primitivism that leaps over 1500 years of messy western Christian history.
Rather, we should acknowledge their participation in the community as a reflection of a
Christian reality that has always been both a gift from outside to every region and is also
linked to their own history, including their various religious pasts.
2. This reading of the New Testament record calls us toward a willingness to think
about canon, biblically and historically, not so much as fence, but as “space.” I do not mean
to call for a reopening of the New Testament canon, but rather for an acceptance that
reading it from different places will offer diverse perspectives, that, if shared in a way that
respects the voices of all, can lead us to more truth. Readings may become useful to diverse
communities of believers in a globalized context as they are perceived in the space created
between taking our traditions seriously and opening ourselves to the radical newness of the
message of Jesus in every place. W hile allowing the opening of such space may be
frightening or apparently lead to chaos, for the descendants of the Anabaptists, a
commitment to nonviolently hear each other in a way that makes our community a good
news invitation to those around us seems well worth the risk.43
3. Finally, if for the first leaders of the Jesus movement, the freedom of the gospel
had only one structural requirement, to “remember the poor,” we should be asking ourselves
whether the structures within which we currently labor are making a real contribution to
economic sharing. If they are not, and if the economic realities of the 21 st century will
require all of us to live more simply so that the good news can be heard, then we had better
get to work.
43
See John Howard Yoder, Body Politics: Five Practice of the Christian Community Before the
Watching World (Nashville, TN: Discipleship Resources, 1997), ch. 5, “The Rule of Paul.”
THINKING AGAIN ABOUT PAUL’S M ISSION
Nancy R. Heisey
Many readers within the Anabaptist community have welcomed the recently
published commentary of John E. Toews on Romans, in the Believers Church Bible
Commentary series. Tackling Romans takes courage because the letter has been the subject
of intense debate among Christians for centuries on at least three counts. First, its
articulation of how God in Christ works in the lives of believers and their community.
Second, its handling of the question of God’s faithfulness to the Jews. Third, in a subject
of particular concern to descendants of the Anabaptists, its counsel in chapter 13 on the
relationship of Christians to the governing authorities.
In his introduction Toews positions himself within the “New Perspective” on Paul
scholarship, which reads Paul’s writings as the expression of a faithful Jew who has received
a dramatic new insight into his own Scriptures and God’s way of working, through a
“revelation” (Gal 1: 15) of the risen Jesus. Regarding the first question, how to understand
“justification by faith” (Rom 1:17) as a description of God’s work in the lives of those in the
community of believers, Toews insists that the sense of the text is both theological, that is,
describing the faithfulness of God, 1 and communal, that is, for a people “not (my emphasis)
troubled by inner feelings of sin and guilt, but (my emphasis) by prejudice and fractured
relationships with fellow Christians of different ethnic origin.” 2 That question is linked,
then, to the second matter, how God is dealing with the Jews. Toews concludes: “the Jewish
faith is not simply one more religion among the other religions traditions…. [Jews] continue
to be God’s people despite their refusal to believe that Jesus is the Messiah.” W ith this
comment he also notes other M ennonite scholars’ efforts to rethink the traditional Christian
understanding that a schism between Judaism and Christianity was inevitable.3
On the question of Christians and the governing authorities, namely the troubling
passage in Romans 13:1-7, Toews carries out a nuanced exegesis of the text, yet his
comment on the “text in the life of the church” is an exceedingly cautious one. Further, he
does not tie this third question regarding believers and the authorities under which they live
to the communal nature of God’s faithfulness or the inclusive Jewish-Gentile community
that Paul envisions. Speaking historically rather than proposing a direction, he lays out both
an “affirmative” and a “critical” reading of Romans 13. The “affirmative” reading is found
1
See also N. T. Wright, “The Letter to the Romans.” The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. X (Nashville:
Abingdon Press, 2002), 397, on the righteousness of God as the foundational theme of the letter.
2
John E. Toews, Romans, Believers Church Bible Commentary. (Scottdale, Pa., and Waterloo, Ont.:
Herald Press, 2004), 31, 60-62.
3
Toews, 289-291.
Nancy R. Heisey, Bible and Religion Department, Eastern Mennonite University, presented
this paper for the Janzen Lectures at Fresno Pacific University, January 2005.

Nancy R. Heisey 19
where “the church coexists in a happy marriage with the state or when the church and the
state face a common enemy.” On the other hand, the “critical” reading, seeks to “relativize”
the message of the text for churches who find themselves “in tension with the state” or when
they are part of “an oppressed minority.” 4 In his otherwise complementary review of the
Romans commentary, George Shillington suggests that something is missing in Toews’
application of this text for the 21 st century.5
In this presentation, then, I want to revisit the third question, the reading of Romans
13, in the light of the first two questions and the missiological, apocalyptic assumptions that
are interwoven with those questions for Paul. I do this acknowledging from the outset that
it would be impossible to have considered everything written, even the recent comments, on
Romans 13. I also assume from the beginning that I cannot do justice to the scholarly
background upon which Toews built his work. Further, I must admit that I begin with a
perspective. My approach is shaped by a belief that the so-called critical reading is the only
one appropriate, if North American M ennonites in our contemporary socio-political reality
are to be able to participate meaningfully in the work of the global church in mission. Our
interest, if we acknowledge the reality of our context, and our desire, if we truly want to be
part of God’s mission in this world, indeed, require us to draw meaningful analogies to the
sociopolitical setting and missionary hope which were the basis for Paul’s advice.
M issionary Plans on His M ind

There is no doubt that Paul’s missionary plans were on his mind as he wrote to the
Romans, for, as he explained to his correspondents in chapter 15 (vv. 22-29), he planned to
visit them on his way to Spain, suggesting that he would need their assistance for carrying
out this voyage (15:24). Even if this missionary purpose alone does not completely explain
the occasion of Romans, 6 it certainly must be kept in mind in relationship to Paul’s
comments on the authorities, since the articulation of the desired mission to Spain
immediately follows the paranetic section in which chapter 13 is also located. 7 Noting that
just before Paul laid out his plans to travel westward, he had said that he did not want to go
where the good news had already been preached (15:20-21), Reta Finger proposes that
Rome was a logical base for a mission to Spain, as the westernmost point that the gospel had
reached by that time, the heart of the empire, and the administrative center for Spanish
territory. Acts portrays Paul in each new city initiating his preaching ministry in the Jewish
synagogue, indicating that the Pauline understanding of his call to the Gentiles, even as
4
Toews, 324-326.
5
George Shillington, “Bold Commentary Illuminates Romans,” Canadian Mennonite 8 (Oct. 4, 2004),
9.
6
For one expression of four scholarly approaches to the “occasion” of Romans, see Heike Omerzu,
review of Der Römerbrief als Gratwanderung by Angelika Reichert, in Journal of Biblical Literature 123 (Winter
2004), 768.
7
Toews, 21, 29, 295.
20 Thinking Again About Paul’s Mission
perceived by Luke, did not impede ongoing contact with his own people. So Paul apparently
felt that he needed support for his ongoing work from Jewish as well as Gentile believers
who were the closest to Spain. Further, since some of the house church groups Paul greeted
in Rome apparently had contacts with the imperial structure (16:10-11), he may even have
seen possibilities of receiving advice and possibly logistical support for the mission to
Spain. Paul also desired unity within his hoped-for support group, in order to point to them
in proclaiming in this new setting his message that in Jesus Christ all of humanity could be
united.8
Toews ties what he sees as the central purpose of Romans— the proclamation of
inclusion in God’s plan of both Gentiles and Jews, to Paul’s missionary purpose: “The
reconciliation of Christians and Jews and Jewish and Gentile Christians would make Paul
welcome in Rome, and would provide a base of support for his mission to Spain.” 9 If Paul
was indeed working from missiological assumptions in laying out his argument to the
Romans, and if those assumptions had to do with the formation of an eschatological unity
between Jews and Gentiles, it may be asked to what degree Paul’s efforts were
representative of his religious tradition or whether they represented a new approach within
Judaism. 10 Scholars are sharply divided between those who see first-century Judaism as
actively missionary and those who do not. They likewise differ over whether Paul’s
understanding was rooted in practices of other first-century Jews or was based in a radically
new understanding of Jewish faith. Both sides in this debate cite Jesus’ criticism hurled at
the Pharisees that they “cross land and sea to make a single convert” (Matt 23:15). It has
been suggested that although this accusation reflects the disputational nature of Matthew’s
gospel, nevertheless Jesus’ critique “would not be credible in a polemical work unless it
were based upon a real situation.” 11 Others scholars argue that the Matthew reference is so
unique in Jewish literature of the time that it is singular evidence for the lack of any
measurable Jewish outreach. 12 The criticism of the Pharisees might even be counter-
evidence against a Jewish proselytizing mission, instead describing a group of Pharisees
attempting to get other Jews to follow their particular approach to the Law (halakha). One
8
Reta Halteman Finger, Paul and the Roman House Churches: A Simulation (Scottdale, Pa., and
Waterloo, Ont.: Herald Press, 1993), 25-28. A different approach to Paul’s missionary purpose in Romans is to
see it as a “generic” letter of advice for communities separating from the synagogue, in the varied settings where
Paul proclaimed or hoped to proclaim his gospel. See Étienne Trocmé, “L’épître aux Romains et la méthode
missionnaire de l’apôtre Paul,” in New Testament Studies 7 (1961), 148-153.
9
Toews, 21, 28-29. Other major commentators agree on the issue of Jewish-Gentile relationships
within the Roman Christian community. See Wright, 407, and James D. G. Dunn, Romans 1-8, Word Biblical
Commentary 38a (Dallas, Texas: Word Books, 1988) xlv-lviii.
10
Toews, 22-23.
11
Louis H. Feldman, “Was Judaism a Missionary Religion in Ancient Times?” in Jewish Assimilation,
Acculturation and Accomodation: Past Traditions, Current Issues and Future Prospects, ed. Menahem Mor
(Lanham, Md.: University Press of America, 1989), 24-37.
12
Shaye J. D. Cohen, “Was Judaism in Antiquity a Missionary Religion?” in Jewish Assimilation), 14-
23.
Nancy R. Heisey 21
typology that places various Jewish approaches to pagans along a spectrum from informative
through educative and apologetic endeavors, insists that Jews did seek to inform, educate,
and offer apologetic insights about their faith to Gentiles. However, the only actively
proselytizing belief system in the first century apart from the Jesus movement was the
Roman emperor cult.13
A recent Dutch publication reiterates the assertion that Paul’s missionary vision is
something new. This “proselytizing mission” is defined as having the purpose that “the
newly converted should not only change their views, but also join the new social group
whose views they come to share.” 14 The letter to the Romans supports this description of
Paul’s intention, from the greeting to “all God’s beloved in Rome, who are called to be
saints”(1:7) to its final doxology which describes the “mystery (that) through the prophetic
writings (the Jewish scriptures) is made known to all the Gentiles”(16:25-26). That Paul felt
the need for the lengthy exhortations to unity in chapters 14 and 15, summarized in the
counsel to “welcome” or “accept” (proslambanesthe) one another as Jews and Gentiles
(15:7), reflects how difficult it must have been for his hearers to agree to embody this new
understanding of a an inter-ethnic social group committed to each other. Paul thus pushes
out the boundaries of the traditional Jewish concept of the “eschatological gathering of all
of Israel,” to develop “the idea of a gathering of Gentiles as an eschatological offering
before the Lord,” 15
The picture of the eschatological community can be illuminated by considering the
relationship between Paul’s statement in chapter 11 that “a hardening has come upon part
of Israel, until the full number of the Gentiles has come in” (v.25) and his announced plan
in chapter 15 to take the gospel to Spain. 16 Paul’s understanding of himself as within the
Israelite prophetic tradition is the basis for his bringing together the perspectives of these
two sections of his letter.17 Romans 11 concludes Paul’s discussion of the divine intent
behind the refusal of most Jews to accept Jesus as the Messiah. The “full number” of
Gentiles is connected to the “offering of the Gentiles” (15:16), a reference not only to the
monetary collection that Paul is carrying along with his coworkers back to Jerusalem, but
also to the coming of Gentiles themselves into God’s community. The background to Paul’s
thinking includes a description in Isaiah 66 of the “sign” (v.19) of people from the nations
coming to Jerusalem with an offering for the God of Israel. In Isaiah’s list of nations, the
first named is Tarshish (the city to which Jonah had attempted to flee [Jon. 1:3]), located on
the Atlantic side of the Straits of Gibraltar, and thus literally at one of the ends “of the
13
Martin Goodman, Mission and Conversion: Proselytizing in the Religious History of the Roman
Empire (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994), chapter 2, 4.
14
L. J. Lietaert Peerbolte, Paul the Missionary (Leuven: Peeters, 2003), 203.
15
Peerbolte, 248.
16
Roger D. Aus, “Paul’s Travel Plans to Spain and the ‘Full Number of the Gentiles’,” Novum
Testamentum 21 (July 1979), 232-262.
17
See Peerbolte, 253.
earth.” 18 Paul’s self-understanding here included an awareness that other apostles were
gathering those of the Jewish Diaspora, allowing in the end the salvation of both Gentiles
and “all Israel”(Rom. 11:26). 19
The language of “mystery” and “sign” reflect the apocalyptic nature of Paul’s
missionary perspective. It has been traditional since Albert Schweitzer to emphasize Paul’s
sense of eschatological urgency, as well, in the New Perspective, as rooting that urgency in
the thought world of many first-century Jews. The first-century Jewish worldview,
characterized by an “eschatological dualism,” separated this age and the age to come.
However, New Testament writers moved in a significant way beyond the Jewish apocalyptic
model, as portrayed in Revelation as well as in Paul. That is, God’s action is not only future,
but is made visible in what has already happened with the resurrection of Christ. “Paul uses
the language of revelation to characterize the whole of God’s eschatological saving activity
in Christ, from beginning to end.” Yet Paul is realistic in his understanding that the new age
begun with Jesus Christ continues to overlap with the present age until the parousia. 20
Since Paul cares deeply about the way that those “in Christ” live in this world,
some scholars have criticized the intense focus on a belief in “the imminent end of the
world” as central to an apocalyptic reading of Paul. Rather, “what makes Paul an
apocalyptic theologian is the apostle’s belief in and commitment to God’s direct revelation
(my emphasis) of the divine mysteries.” From this perspective Paul’s focus is first of all on
what has been revealed to him, and how he proclaims that vision to others, rather than on
what will happen in the future, however near that future might be.21 In this view Paul’s
mission has as its goal the “sanctification of the Gentiles” (Rom.15:16). Paul refers to those
in his communities as “holy ones,” who “are expected to live a life worthy of their calling
and of the gospel.” Eschatological hope is part of this proclamation, for the “holy ones” will
indeed be glorified in the end, but the present is the place and the time of meaningful
participation in the suffering of Jesus Christ, in each others’ suffering, and with the suffering
of all creation. 22
It is more accurate, however, to assess the impact and uniqueness of Paul’s
apocalyptic eschatology in his willingness and ability to hold in tension the vision of the end
of the present order and the absolute commitment to live out, “in Christ,” the new age in the
present. Missiologically, as we have seen. “Romans… was written at least in part to answer
18
Aus, 238-242.
19
Aus proposes that Paul thought the Messiah himself would gather in the Diaspora; see 261.
However, his comments in Galatians 2 and elsewhere clearly outline his commitment to the idea that Peter and
others were bearing the gospel to the “circumcised.”
20
M. C. de Boer, “Paul and Apocalyptic Eschatology,” in The Continuum History of Apocalypticism,
Bernard J. McGinn, John J. Collins, and Stephen J. Stein, eds. (New York/London: Continuum, 2003), 166-194;
Charles B. Cousar, The Letters of Paul (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996), 96-97; Toews, 32-26.
21
Katsuya Kawano, “Paul’s ‘Apocalyptic’ Paradigm of Mission in Light of Recent Discussion of
Apocalypticism,” Mission Focus Annual Review 11, Supplement (2003), 128-129.
22
Kawano, 133-137.
Nancy R. Heisey 23
charges arising from Paul’s ministry of inclusiveness directed toward ‘Greeks and
barbarians’ (1:14).” 23 Paul was deeply concerned about this-worldly matters such as not
only who was in and who was out but also how one moved across the concrete barriers
dividing his community. Thus we can see Paul preaching both an inclusive understanding
of the gospel message and requiring exclusion, such as that of the Corinthian man living
with his stepmother. Even here, however, the counsel to exclusion is directed toward an
eschatological inclusion (1 Cor. 5:1-5). Like other Jewish apocalyptic thinkers, Paul at
times seems to dissociate from this world, as seen in his counsel in Romans 12 to “not be
conformed to this world” (v. 2). Yet Paul is not “escapist.” In his first letter to the
Thessalonians Paul calls for believers to work with their hands and to be quiet (1 Thess 4:9-
11). This quietness was not quietism, “but a form of listening or faithful watching
appropriate to the arriving eschatological kingdom.” Indeed, Paul challenges the
dissociation of the Thessalonians from their society, insisting on linking “the apocalyptic
vision with the tasks of this world.” W riting to the Corinthians, Paul advises against a
spiritualized and other-worldly refusal of sexual relations in marriage (1 Cor. 7). 24
This creative theological work on the border between pagan Hellenistic and Jewish
cultures is part and parcel of “the inclusiveness of his apocalyptic gospel in Rome,” as well
as his advice in Romans 13 against dissociation and toward this world’s realities.
Throughout his correspondence, Paul holds in tension aspects of traditional Jewish
apocalyptic thought with his understanding of engagement in the world and God’s gracious
inclusion. His eschatological understanding of mission grows out of a special, creative
energy, as Calvin Roetzel puts it, “an organic intellectual at work on the margin.” 25
Before returning to our reading of Romans 13, it may be useful to retrace the steps
already taken. First, we have seen that central to Paul’s letter to the Romans is its
missiological purpose. As part of the distinctive commitment of the first Jesus-believing
community, Paul is carrying out his assignment to bring the Gentiles into this actual, living
and breathing group of believers, as a sign of the formation of God’s eschatological
community. These believers, as Paul understands it, are to live out the ways of the new age
within their various actual situations. Paul sees this task as part of preparing the world for
the completion of the new age. The fundamental allegiance of the community of Jesus is to
the God who revealed God’s purposes through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus
Christ, that is, to the power that will be completely revealed in the eschaton. Yet Paul’s
letters reveal his commitment to living out that hope through active, godly participation of
the new community in this world.
23
Calvin J. Roetzel, “Paul as Organic Intellectual: Reshaping Jewish Apocalyptic Myth from the
Margins,” in Paul—A Jew on the Margins ( Louisville, KY/London: Westminster John Knox Press, 2003), 26.
24
Ibid. 29-30.
25
Roetzel, 36-37.
Praxis W hen Authorities are Coercive

That the practical issues of the communities to which he wrote were central to
Paul’s thought in Romans 13 must be underlined. Some have suggested that Paul’s counsel
in Romans 13 reflects an uncharacteristic caution because of his interest in avoiding any
confrontation with the authorities that would hinder this mission.26 However, it is more
realistic to see this caution as tied to his overarching purpose rather than simply avoidance
of trouble. 27 Romans hints that Paul shared with the Gentile members of the Roman house
churches the understanding that Israel had “stumbled” (9:32)— but is clear that he does not
want them to draw the conclusion that the Jewish members are therefore cut off. Instead,
he writes the entire letter to warn G entile believers to care for the welfare of the Jewish
believers in light of their precarious situation after the expulsion of Jews from Rome by the
Emperor Claudius in 49 C.E. Further, the reputed “brutality” of the Roman tax system
increases Paul’s concern that, as happened in Alexandria (38-41 C.E.), Jews will be blamed
and harassed if another tax revolt breaks out in Rome.28
Paul’s repeated references to “wrath” make clear that he links the ordering
functions of the authorities to their use of coercion to achieve their ends. Paul’s Jewish
contemporary Philo also emphasized the use of force by Gentile rulers, which he
distinguished from the persuasion of the Jewish leadership tradition begun by Moses.
According to Philo, “W hen the times are right, it is good to set ourselves against the
violence of our enemies and subdue it; but when the circumstances do not present
themselves, the safe course is to stay quiet” (de Somniis 2.92). Paul, who just before the
Romans 13 pericope has repudiated the use of violence against enemies and oppressors
(12:14-21), nevertheless understands the actual situation in Rome as threatening for Jews.
Thus his counsel of care in responding to the authorities, understanding their power for
violence and coercion against especially the vulnerable Jewish population, is to make his
Gentile audience alert to this situation.29
The actuality of Paul’s advice, however, must be construed together with a careful
reading of the entire section of the Romans letter, within the missiological-eschatological
framework already outlined.30 In Romans 12, Paul’s counsel to overcome evil with good
(12:21) is preceded by the reminder from the Jewish scriptures that “Vengeance is mine (the
Lord’s)” (Deut 32:35). In Romans 13, immediately following verses 1-7, Paul declares:
“You know what time it is… For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became
26
Jean-François Racine, “Romains 13,1-7: Simple préservation de l’ordre social?” Estudios Biblicos
51/2 (1993), 187; Finger, 138.
27
Neil Elliott, “Romans 13:1-7 in the Context of Imperial Propaganda,” in Paul and Empire: Religion
and Power in Roman Imperial Society, ed. Richard A. Horsley (Harrisburg, PA: Trinity Press International, 1997),
184-204.
28
Elliott, 190-192.
29
Elliott, 199, 203-4.
30
Toews, 31.
Nancy R. Heisey 25
believers” (Rom 13:11). It is clear that Paul’s comments are limited by the understanding
that “the power of those in authority will soon end.” 31
This missiological-eschatological understanding, already noted as part of Toews’
reading of Romans, can also be found in John Howard Yoder’s treatment of this text. Yoder
agrees that the letter to the Romans is directed to building up a diverse community including
both Jews and Gentiles. The Jewish understanding that, prior to the ministry of Jesus, had
separated the two groups as enemies, is exactly where the nonviolent love of enemies that
Jesus prescribed should be exercised. 32 Further, the subordination of Christians to
government is linked to Yoder’s concept of “revolutionary subordination,” an eschatological
concept because it comes from the manner in which Jesus triumphed over this-worldly and
spiritual powers in his death and resurrection. 33 Yoder, whose “revolutionary subordination”
concept sustains Toews’ claim that Romans is a “politically subversive letter,” 34 lays out this
theological agenda in dialogue with the text’s literary and first-century socio-political
context: “The [entire literary unit of chapters 12 and 13] thus sees Christian nonconformity
and suffering love as driven and drawn by a sense of God’s triumphant movement from the
merciful past into a triumphant future,” and, “The apostle is … speaking to the present
situation of the Roman Christians as representative of Christians throughout the empire, and
not to the nature of all political reality… .” In addition, the Roman Christians live under
authorities that grant them no voice or participation. 35 Further, Yoder correctly points out
that verse 6, if rightly translated, states that the authorities are God’s servants when or if they
are doing what is good. This statement challenges the “high view” of the Roman authorities
that Toews finds in the repeated use of the term “servant of God” (vv. 3, 4, 6). 36
Some have criticized Yoder’s study of Romans 13, as well as that of Yoder’s
mentor Oscar Cullmann, as too eager to harmonize diverse biblical teachings about the state.
Romans 13:1-7 should then be seen as “more positive” toward the state than other Pauline
writings (e.g. 1 Cor. 2:6-8). 37 This perspective is emphatically iterated in W right’s New
Interpreter’s Bible Romans commentary, which places the Romans 13 counsel within the
framework of the traditional wisdom of “more or less everyone in the ancient world.” 38
31
Luise Schotroff, “‘Give to Caesar What Belongs Caesar’s and to God What Belongs to God’: A
Theological Response of the Early Christian Church to Its Social and Political Environment,” in The Love of
Enemy and Nonretaliation in the New Testament, ed. Willard M. Swartley (Louisville, KY: Westminster/John
Knox Press, 1992), 240.
32
John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus, 2d ed. (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1994), 223-226.
33
Yoder, 209.
34
Toews, 31.
35
Yoder, 195, 201, 203.
36
Yoder, 205, Toews, 318. Many ongoing thanks to Martha Davis, who pounded into my head through
the semesters that when translating Latin or Greek, the participle is never to be rendered as a gerund!
37
Earl Zimmerman, A Praxis of Peace: The “Politics of Jesus” According to John Howard Yoder
(Unpublished dissertation submitted to the Catholic University of America, 2004), 136.
38
N. T. Wright, “The Letter to the Romans,” in The New Interpreter’s Bible, Vol. X (Nashville:
Abingdon Press, 2002), 722.
W right’s overall reading of Romans shares Toews “subversive” understanding, as when he

contrasts Paul’s positioning of the “righteousness of God” (Rom 1:17 and throughout) in
sharp contrast to the “iusticia” of Rome. 39 However, he fears that reading this passage as
a warrant for contesting the basic authority needed for human functioning detracts from
Romans’ overall contrast of God’s realm and earthly empires. 40
Contextual Conditioning W hen Reading Romans 13 Globally

Yet in the context of a Christian community that is indeed global, it seems
imperative that the reading of scripture, contextualized in each place, nevertheless finds
threads of conversation among our communities. The delicate status of the Christian
minority in many parts of Asia and the triumphalist majority understanding of many
American Christians should no longer be assumed to have no bearing on each other. The
one-meal-a-day poverty of M ennonites in several regions of Africa must not go unnoticed
in regions of plenty and excess. As descendants of the sixteenth-century Anabaptists and
of those who suffered under M arxist persecution, we should have at least a historical sense
that challenges an “affirmative” reading of this text. As members of the twenty-first century
Christian movement committed to the renunciation of violence, we should not ignore ways
that the contemporary globalized economic and military structures have created monstrous
impediments in the way of the proclamation of good news.
These realities may be taken into account by recognizing the context of Romans
13 as “preparation of the Christian community for a situation of persecution.” New
Testament writings as well as early second-century Christian texts indicate that one form of
doing good in this world, central to Paul’s eschatological preaching, is being loyal to the
authorities. W hen Christians were brought before the authorities, they used this claim of
goodness to deflect accusations against them. 41 As shown in the description of Pliny, Jews
and Christians claimed to be loyal to the empire, but were forced to prove this by
participating in a cult to the ruler, which was in conflict with their higher commitment to the
God of the universe. Paul’s remarks on payment of taxes and what Christians owe suggest
that he is thinking of this possibility (13:7-8). Thus Paul offers the declaration of loyalty
that is possible, recognizing that it will not be satisfactory because the authorities will
always ask for something more.42
“The radicality of Romans 13” must be read in light of the limitations on loyalty
that are understood in this section of the text. Paul articulates the limits carefully, not
directly as in later Christian writings. Yet they are there, beginning in chapter 12, with the
call for the renewal of minds and against the temptation to conform “to this age.” They are
39
Wright, 404-5.
40
Wright, 716-17, 722.
41
Schottroff, 225.
42
Schottroff, 228.
Nancy R. Heisey 27
there in the concern for the physical well being of the community of faith, which is “patient
in suffering,” “contribute(s) to the needs of the saints (and) extend(s) hospitality to
strangers”(12:12-13). And they are there in the eschatological statement that “salvation is
nearer to us now than when we became believers” (13:11). Paul’s and others’ missionary
efforts, which no doubt made use of possibilities provided by the pax Romana to travel the
empire, nevertheless in their results challenged the empire. “The more the communities
spread, the more the state was affected… . The spreading of faith in Jesus Christ was not the
result of an organizational goal, but the result of God’s claim on the whole world, on all
people.” 43
Economic Reading of Romans 13 is Relevant

Interpreting Romans 13 within the context of persecution is visible in the later
third-century commentary on Romans by Origen.44 Admitting that “Paul troubles me by
these words,” Origen begins with a limit drawn from his anthropology, pointing out the call
to the soul (psyche) to submit and not the spirit (pneuma), the part of the human most
attuned to the will of God. Further, quoting Acts 5:29 in support, he questions how any
authority that persecutes God’s people can be from God. For this study, however, Origen
is even more interesting in the economic reading he brings to the text. After describing
those who are spiritual as free of possessions, he declares that those who still have material
ties to this world are subject to the authorities regarding those possessions. Referring to
Jesus’ command to give Caesar what is Caesar’s, he goes on: “Peter and John used to have
nothing to render to Caesar; for Peter says, ‘Gold and silver I do not have.’ He who does not
have this has nothing to render to Caesar nor, therefore, what he should subject to the higher
authorities. But he who has money or possessions or any worldly preoccupations should
listen up… .” 45 Origen further distinguishes between taxes, which are due on land and
business, and fear and honor, due only to the Lord (Rom. 13:7).46
This ancient economic reading seems strikingly relevant. For scholarly northerners
at the beginning of the twenty-first century, it is imperative to acknowledge that our
contextual frame is that of the “free-market economy” as “governing authority.” 47 As has
already been noted, Paul directly addresses the economic dimensions of the power of
governing authorities by his reference to the payment of taxes, itself an allusion to Jesus’
43
Schottroff, 240-249. James Dunn also points out the fundamental Jewish understanding of divine
limits on any human demands for submission. See his Romans 9-16, Word Biblical Commentary 38b (Dallas,
Texas: Word Books, 1988), 762.
44
See Mark Reasoner, “Ancient and Modern Exegesis of Romans 13 Under Unfriendly Governments,”
Society of Biblical Literature Seminar Papers (1999), 359-374.
45
Origen Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans 9.25-30, trans. Thomas P. Scheck, The Fathers
of the Church, 103 (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 2001).
46
Origen Comm. Rom 9.30.
47
Monya A. Stubbs, “Subjection, Reflection, Resistance: a Three-Dimensional Process of
Empowerment in Romans 13 and the Free-Market Economy,” SBL Seminar Papers (1999), 376-378.
comment on the payment of taxes to Caesar (Mark 12:13-17). 48 In our world: “The
marketplace-demand (governs by deciding) who will die of disease and who will receive
adequate health care. It decides who will receive a viable education and become equipped
with the appropriate information required for rational thought, judgment, and planning, and
who will fall prey to the vultures of ignorance. The marketplace–demand decides who will
be demonized as an enemy and who will be extolled as a friend.” 49 The recent best-selling
economic history The Commanding Heights: The Battle for the World Economy sustains this
view. W hile its authors propose in their conclusion that current globalized economic forces
are driven by billions of “free” economic choices, the picture they paint is rather of the
market itself as a power which shapes and controls those choices.50
In introducing Romans 13, Paul builds an ambiguity into the imperative that
governs the passage. The verb usually translated “let every person be subject”
(hupotassestho), can be represented by both a middle and a passive voice. Thus, it can be
read either “every person subject herself or himself” to the authorities (middle) or “be every
person subjected” (passive). Rather than seeking to choose between these two translations,
it is important to be aware of the deliberate ambiguity they introduce. Christians are thus
both instructed, with our wills, to accept the subjection of the powers that control the world,
and called to acknowledge that we are being acted upon by those powers. 51 Paul’s view
recognized the realities faced in the daily lives of the believers in Rome, as well as how
important it was for Christians to understand that those realities were not the absolute
definition of authority. If the minds of Christians are indeed transformed, then we can see
that whatever the nature of the authorities in our world, those authorities are themselves
subject to God. 52
Recognizing that the way things are is not the only way they could be leads to
resistance. The oft-cited work of James C. Scott on ways that subjugated peoples develop
“hidden transcripts” to articulate their refusal to accept their situations of oppression is
relevant to Paul’s advice.53 As noted earlier, Yoder gave a nod to such a “resistance”
reading of Romans 13:6 with a more accurate translation of the phrase describing when the
authorities actually function as God’s servants. Toews does so as well, commenting that the
command to “be subject” does not mean “to obey,” but rather to “accept the claims of.” 54
It can further be suggested that Paul, as he is wont to do, has inserted within this text an
48
See the comment of Rabbi Arthur Waskow, “God and Caesar: The Image on the Coin” at
www.bruderhof.com/articles/God-and-Caesar.htm, accessed October 28, 2004.
49
Stubbs, 380.
50
Daniel Yergin and Joseph Stanislaw, The Commanding Heights: The Battle for the World Economy
(New York: Simon and Schuster, 2002).
51
Stubbs, 382.
52
Stubbs, 385-7.
53
James C. Scott in Domination and the Arts of Resistance (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990).
54
Toews, 313.
Nancy R. Heisey 29
ironic allusion to the sayings of Jesus. 55 The terms “ruler” (archon) and “servant”
(diakonos) linked in 13:3-4 are also linked, but as opposites, when Jesus describes the
Roman authorities in Mark 10: “You know that among the Gentiles those whom they
recognize as their rulers lord it over them….but whoever wishes to become great among you
must be your servant” (vv.42-3).
The “hidden transcript” of Romans 13, however, may not be primarily in verses 1-
7, but rather in the surrounding context.56 A specific command immediately follows this
text, that is, to “owe no one anything, except to love one another” (v. 8). W hile the
situations of first-century Roman Christians and those of twenty-first-century Christians may
be strikingly different, “the command to love remains the same.” Paul “challenges us to
make decisions and take actions based not on the minimization of costs and the
maximization of profits, but on how we can best maximize our servicing helping to feed the
hungry, clothe the naked, heal the sick, educate the illiterate.” 57
W hile traditionally, as many commentators have noted, the debate over Romans
13 has centered around questions of Christian participation in military forces and the
application of the death penalty, issues which continue to call for Christian discernment, a
reading of this text that calls us to recognize our subjection to global economic realities adds
to both the challenge and the hope for Northern Christians. Yoder points out that “war is
practically always for economics.” 58 Then, thinking about the nature of our subjection, and
keeping clear about our ultimate allegiance to God, it is not only for poor Christians and
those in oppressive political situations, but for those of us who, as Origen put it, are subject
to economic realities because we have possessions that require us to recognize the hold over
us of the governing authorities.
For most Mennonites, the “love of neighbor” has long been an important part of
our view of Christian mission. Just as Paul reflected on the relationship of first-century
Christians to the Roman authorities in light of his hope to carry the gospel to Spain, so we
must consider how what we do in response to the systems that shape our lives affects our
participation in sharing good news in this world. For example, “if only 1% of the car
owners in America left their cars idle for one day a week, it would save an estimated 42
million gallons of gas a year.” 59 If only the 325,000 Mennonites, Mennonite Brethren, and
Brethren in Christ in the United States were to take up such a challenge, and to offer the
time and money saved for building up the church through service and sharing, I’m
55
See David Wenham, Paul and Jesus: The True Story (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 2002) for
many examples of Pauline allusions to the teachings of Jesus in Paul’s earlier letters.
56
Stubbs, 394.
57
Stubbs, 399-402.
58
John Howard Yoder, Body Politics: Five Practices of the Christian Community Before the Watching
World (Nashville, Tenn.: Discipleship Resources, 1992), 77.
59
The EarthWorks Group, 50 Simple Things You Can Do to Save the Earth (Berkeley, Calif.:
Earthworks Press, 1989), 89.
convinced we would all notice the results (not to mention the relief, however small, such a
choice would offer our suffering earth). In the twenty-first century, with our family of faith
a global one, we must give priority to the missiological impact of a community so divided
along economic lines. Taking seriously Paul’s counsel in a way that challenges the barriers
put up by the economic systems that separate Christians around the world from one another,
I claim, is essential to our credible witness in the world. Doing so as a sign that “salvation
is nearer to us now than when we became believers” is the deep expression of Christian hope
we need to keep us going.
PENTECOSTALS AND THE BRETHREN IN CHRIST IN BULAW AYO
Daryl Climenhaga
1. Preliminary Remarks
This essay builds on two pieces of earlier research carried out with the Brethren
in Christ Church in Bulawayo in 1992 and in 1997. It is based on interviews performed in
2003, which were intended to extend the earlier research into a longitudinal study. In fact,
the interviews raised a new set of questions that require their own separate further
consideration. In this reporting, then, I indicate what I did learn and set the stage for further
research into the influence of the Pentecostal movement 1 on the Brethren in Christ Church
in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe. I begin with a brief review of the Brethren in Christ in Bulawayo
and of my earlier research. A report on my recent research follows, with tentative
conclusions and suggestions for further study.
The economic and political difficulties of the current situation in Zimbabwe had
their effect on the interview process. W hereas informants were readily available in 1992 and
1997, in 2003 they were thoroughly engaged in the struggle to obtain basic necessities. A
typical case involved two headmasters of rural secondary schools, who observed that they
are no longer able to act as administrators of academic institutions since all of their energy
was used in finding food for the students and fuel for the school vehicles. Their experience
is the experience of the Zinbabwean people in general. As a result, I conducted fewer
interviews than I had planned, which gives the conclusions a sense of caution and
incompleteness. Such caution is appropriate; the real story must come from within the
church in Zimbabwe.
2. The Brethren in Christ in Bulawayo

The Brethren in Christ Church (BICC) began around 1780 in south-central
Pennsylvania as an offshoot of the Mennonite Church in America. The BICC came late to
the missionary enterprise, sending missionaries to Africa and India around the beginning of
the 20 th century (Wittlinger 1978: 178ff). The first BICC missionary party came through
South Africa, entering modern Zimbabwe in 1899 and began their work at Matopo Mission,
30 miles south of Bulawayo (Davidson 1923: 26-40).
Over the next 60 years the Brethren in Christ grew to encompass four main mission
1
See Anderson (2000) for an excellent discussion of the Pentecostal and Zionist movements in South
Africa. With him I define Pentecostalism inclusively, referring to a movement that takes in Charismatic,
Pentecostal, and Zionist sources in the southern African context. The churches that have influenced the Brethren
in Christ are primarily what Anderson defines as either Pentecostal or New Pentecostal.
Daryl Climenhaga, D. Miss. is Assoc. Professor of Global Studies, Providence Theological

Seminary, Otterburne MB Canada, with missionary background in Zimbabwe.

32 Pentecostals and the Brethren in Christ in Bulawayo
stations in Matabeleland (M atopo, Mtshabezi, W anezi, and Phumula) with numerous

churches and preaching points surrounding them. A significant institutional work
accompanied the growth of the church, with schools, hospitals, a bookstore, and farms.
Although the church itself was a rural church organized in four districts surrounding the
mission stations, a growing number of the people from the church were moving to the urban
areas, especially to Bulawayo. 2
Bulawayo began its life as the capital of Lobengula’s realm in the 1870s. Conflict
between the W hite settlers coming from South Africa and the Ndebele people in south-
western Zimbabwe led to two uprisings in the 1890s – the first in 1893 and the second in
1896, just before the coming of the missionaries to Matopo. The conflicts ended with W hite
settler rule that lasted until independence for Zimbabwe in 1980. Under settler rule
Bulawayo began a new life in 1894 as a place for the W hite people to live. The Black
inhabitants of the country were believed to have their homes in the rural areas; they would
visit the cities to work, but were not expected to live there.3
Because the settler government assumed that Black Zimbabweans belonged in the
rural areas, a rural church was seen as the natural base for the Brethren in Christ in the
colonial period. But of course the Black people of Zimbabwe were not content to live in the
country while the W hites developed the cities; some wished to participate in the new
opportunities found by working and living in the city. Thus a growing number of Blacks,
including some from the Brethren in Christ, moved more or less permanently into such cities
as Bulawayo. In 1956 these new urban dwellers coalesced into a congregation in the
Mpopoma township. 4 Through the 1950s and 1960s, the Brethren in Christ remained a rural
church with two urban congregations, Mpopoma and Nguboyenja. The Liberation W ar of
the 1970s was a primary catalyst bringing about a new situation. As the struggle intensified,
many people moved to the cities, seeking greater security. The mission also moved more of
its operations into Bulawayo, including the Ekuphileni Bible Institute (a school for training
pastors). W ith increasing resources and people in B ulawayo, the Brethren in Christ
expanded rapidly in the city, leading to the situation I experienced in Bulawayo between
1988 and 1992. Lobengula, the largest of the Brethren in Christ churches, had an attendance
of about 1,000 each Sunday morning. Nkulumane had a further 600 or so, while Phumula,
Mpopoma, and Central all had 300 to 500. T his shift from a small marginalized urban
church in 1956 to a strong vibrant church in 1990 formed the focus of my research in 1992.
3. Three Phases of Research

The first phase of my research into the Bulawayo churches asked how the church
2
In Climenhaga (1998) I survey this history briefly. More recently the Global Mennonite History
Project has told the story of the Brethren in Christ in Zimbabwe (see Dube, Dube, and Nkala 2003).
3
My dissertation (1992: chapter 2) explores the formation of cities in colonial Rhodesia more fully.
4
See Climenhaga (1992) for this story more fully with greater documentation.
Daryl Clim enhaga 33
adapted to social and political change in Bulawayo. Between 1956 and 1992 Bulawayo
changed from an intentionally W hite city to a Black city with a decreasing W hite minority.
In the same period the BICC changed from a marginalised position to a central position in
society. Both country and church changed: charting and understanding the changes was the
task of this first phase of research.
A secondary current within that story concerned the emergence of the youth as a
significant force. The influence of Pentecostalism was present in the 1960s and 1970s, but
this influence was always subdued, contained within established patterns of Brethren in
Christ behaviour. One might argue that the connections were as much a part of the political
and social context as of a spiritual or ecclesiastical search; thus they did not lead to
particular change in church life among the Brethren in Christ. 5
In the 1980s this pattern changed. Young people started going to newer Pentecostal
and Charismatic churches, such as Victory Fellowship and Bulawayo Christian Centre, from
which they returned seeking to lead their own Brethren churches in a Pentecostal direction.
The research in 1992 did not pursue this pattern, which I picked up in a second research
phase.6
In 1997 I returned to Bulawayo to explore the interaction of the youth and
Pentecostalism. I arrived in the middle of a struggle for the soul of the Brethren in Christ
church. Youth were pressing for change in a Pentecostal direction; elders and leaders were
resisting strongly, at times trying to force these youth out of the church. My research
observed the broad outline of this influence on the Brethren in Christ church and sought to
understand what its attraction was for the people of our church. Paul Hiebert’s idea of the
excluded middle provided a conceptual framework within which to explain what was
happening.
In 1982 Hiebert wrote his seminal essay, “The Flaw of the Excluded Middle”,
which still retains a great deal of explanatory power after 20 years of examination in
missionary contexts. Hiebert observed that missionaries from the W est (such as the BICC
in Zimbabwe) have operated out of an essentially secular world view. Even when firmly
committed to a supernatural Christian faith, they acted as though secular explanations are
sufficient for most areas of life.7 Cultures such as the Ndebele of Zimbabwe deal with what
Hiebert calls the middle zone (births, deaths, jobs, relationships) with a complex web of
spiritual and secular interaction, whereas W estern culture treats the same items as primarily
secular. As a result, mission Christianity has tended to leave the spiritual aspect out of many
5
The interviews containing this information are found in the research notes for Climenhaga 1992.
6
This paragraph oversimplifies the situation. Of course youth (and others) had always visited other
churches, including Pentecostal churches. The real change at this point in time was the increased refusal of the
youth to heed their elders’ admonitions: “Brethren in Christ don’t do these things.”
7
As an example of this unexamined secularism, a Brethren in Christ missionary doctor once informed
me that African explanations for sickness could not be true, since Western medicine worked without the need for
supernatural explanations.
areas of life that most other cultures in the world assume are also spiritual (cf Hiebert,
Tienou, and Shaw, 1999).
Surveying the scene in W est Africa, Joel Kailing (1994) proposed Pentecostalism
as a way for African Christianity to eliminate the split-level nature of mission Christianity,
thus filling “the excluded middle”. My 1997 findings followed Kailing’s lead for Zimbabwe.
I interpreted the interest for Pentecostal styles and practices found among the young people
in the Brethren in Christ as a way to bridge the W estern divide between secular and sacred,
bringing about greater wholeness in the African church (Climenhaga 1998).8
But the third phase of research, during my visit in 2003, added a sociological
dimension to understanding the influence of Pentecostalism. My earlier analysis had focused
on the spiritual, but scholars studying Pentecostalism have suggested that a fusing of sacred
and secular is too simple a reading of the dynamics generally observed. Between Babel and
Pentecost (Corten and Marshall-Fratani 2001) is a helpful volume bringing together essays
that explore the global or transnational dimension of Pentecostalism. One of the points that
these essays make is that people coming into the Pentecostal orbit often are looking for
greater connection to the rest of the world. The 1997 research sought to test a possible
sociological explanation: W ere the young people attracted to Pentecostal styles and
practices because they saw them as bringing God’s Spirit more fully, or because in the
Pentecostal family of churches they found themselves connected to the larger world? In the
case of the BICC in Bulawayo, were young people (the primary agents of Pentecostal
influence) seeking more of the Spirit, or more of the larger world, or some combination of
both?
4. The Picture Today

The basic research procedure was a series of unstructured interviews in which I
identified my desire to know more about the Pentecostal influence within the Brethren in
Christ. I did not provide much definition of terms, but allowed the conversation to develop
from the initial question, “How has the Pentecostal movement influenced the Brethren in
Christ in Bulawayo?” I had intended to do a minimum of 20 interviews with church leaders
and with young people sympathetic to Pentecostalism. Because of the difficulty of life in
Zimbabwe described earlier, I was able to conduct interviews with five official church
leaders, four respected elders (of whom one is too young to really be called an elder), one
interested member, two youth leaders, and three Pentecostal leaders. Twelve interviews from
members of the Brethren in Christ Church comes to just over half of the desired minimum,
along with three interviews from Pentecostal leaders. Two other informal conversations of
which I have no written record also played a part in forming my thinking.
8
This explanation is similar to Anderson (2000: 18): “This spirituality was in fact a holistic approach
to Christianity which appealed more adequately to the African worldview than older Christian traditions had
done.”
I began with the following hypotheses with which to explore the interplay between
the social and spiritual in the Brethren in Christ response to Pentecostalism. The first
hypothesis was that the BICC has become central to the Ndebele identity. I did not gain
enough information to illuminate this hypothesis: it remains for further discussion. 9 The
connection of the hypothesis to the larger question of spiritual and social influence is that
such a linkage between church and ethnic identity supports the strength of a social
explanation for Brethren in Christ identity, rather than for Pentecostal influence.
The second hypothesis was that Pentecostalism appears as a threat to the formal
leadership both spiritually and socially. Spiritually, it appears as a threat by introducing
practices reminiscent of the spirits in traditional culture. Socially, it appears as a threat by
defining the church in terms drawn from a broader social identity than Ndebele society. If
this hypothesis is correct, then spiritual and social forces are both at work in the way that
the youth responded to Pentecostalism. The evidence of the interviews suggests that the
spiritual influence, and therefore the spiritual threat to the leadership, is more significant
than the social; the evidence also suggests that the conflict is largely in the past, and that the
leaders and youth of the BICC have come to an accommodation in the present.
The third hypothesis suggested that the young people embrace Pentecostal
influences partly to deal with spiritual needs and partly to deal with social needs. This
movement does not necessarily lead to loss of their church or social identity. The evidence
here supports this view. Most youth respond to the spiritual influence more intentionally,
while the social influence operates at a level less consciously apprehended.
Given the small number of interviews, these findings are tentative. At the same time
they support the earlier reading of the evidence – that the primary attraction of
Pentecostalism is spiritual, rather than sociological. 10 I now survey each hypothesis more
fully, and then draw my observations together to deal with the total question. In a closing
section I suggest a direction for further research of special importance in the specific context
of Zimbabwe today.
4.1. The Brethren and Christ and Ethnic Identity

This issue arose in just one interview, in which a Pentecostal leader observed that
the BICC is too closely tied to its Ndebele identity, restricting the church. Comments from
other Brethren in Christ reflected this close tie, but did not speak specifically to this issue.
The most that one can say, based on these interviews and on BICC history, is that the church
is thoroughly Ndebele, and that church identity and ethnic identity are closely linked. One
cannot go further and say, as the hypothesis does, that the church is central to the ethnic
9
Wendy Urban-Mead has suggested this idea in personal conversation, based on her own research with
the BICC in Zimbabwe. See also her 2004 thesis, “Religion Women, and Gender in the Brethren in Christ Church,
Matableland, Zimbabwe, 1898-1978.”
10
Born (2002) gives a similar reading of Pentecostalism in Gaborone, Botswana, as does Anderson
(2000) in Soshanguve, South Africa.
identity.
This question is worth exploring further. Does the church see its task as revitalizing
the Ndebele people in Zimbabwe today? BICC roots in N orth American Anabaptism are
separatist, with no place for such a social-ethnic task. But the church in Africa charts its own
path, and creates new meanings with old patterns. I return to this question in the concluding
section, noting directions for further research.
4.2. Leadership Challenges

The hypothesis that the youth appear as a threat to the church leadership appears
to be incorrect. Although the evidence is limited, elders and youth alike spoke about the
conflict as something in the past. Several elders spoke of the way that the church has
controlled the youth. Several youth leaders spoke of the way that their views have become
normative for the church. Such conflict as remains is mitigated by both sides feeling that
they have made significant gains. In general, then, the conflict over Pentecostal influences
appears to be in the past. The influence remains, but the conflict is largely over.
The basic accommodation that the church has come to appears as follows. In
various places within the church’s life people, especially youth, are able to engage in mass
prayer, healing services, casting out spirits, and other Pentecostal-type practices. But when
the church comes together in its primary worship service, the Pentecostal is set aside, and
the church follows traditional Brethren in Christ patterns. The Lobengula Brethren in Christ
Church serves as a somewhat typical example. It was the first urban BICC congregation to
welcome Pentecostal leaders to speak to the youth and has been known as a “youth church”
open to Pentecostal influences. At 7 a.m. on Sunday people gather for prayer, often
appearing thoroughly Pentecostal. On the Sunday I attended Lobengula, the main service
began at 10 a.m., with a praise and worship time familiar to Pentecostal-type churches,
ending in a time of mass prayer. As a former pastor in the B ulawayo BICC churches, I
recognised the kind of practice that had been opposed in earlier years. Then somewhere
close to 11 a.m. the senior pastor entered the church, and the style of worship changed
markedly. The reminder of the service was conducted in traditional BICC style, so that the
pastor was able to observe to me that they practice Pentecostalism, but that everything is
done in an orderly manner.
This commitment to orderliness and control appears to be the distinguishing mark
of the BICC churches. W orship styles borrowed from Pentecostal-type churches are
common, but they are carried out within the framework of older more traditional styles. This
compromise allowed informants to tell me that the conflict is over, with church leaders
saying that they have controlled the youth, and youth saying that the practices they initiated
are now generally accepted.
In the former challenge to the leadership now in the past, I believe that the primary
threat was perceived as spiritual. The idea of a social threat relies on the idea that the
Pentecostal influence was connecting the BICC to the larger world against their leaders’
will. If that dynamic were significant, the youth would have left the church to join the
Pentecostal churches when BICC leaders opposed them. Instead the youth resisted any
pressure to leave. As an example of this resistance, one pastor used physical force in the
1990s to prevent youth in his church from adopting any Pentecostal worship styles. The
youth refused to leave, and in the end the pastor left instead. It may be that this insistence
by the youth is indirect evidence that their identity as Brethren in Christ is integrally linked
to their identity as Ndebele youth. If this is so, their refusal to leave the church serves as
indirect support for the first hypothesis.
The direct evidence of the interviews suggests this spiritual challenge. One young
person said that the leaders could not compete with the Pentecostal youth spiritually,
therefore they opposed them in the church. In 1992 elders told me that Pentecostal practices
would act as a bridge to traditional connections with the spirit world, and youth accused
their elders of following traditional spirits because they did not have the Holy Spirit. In 2003
a respected elder told me, this attitude on the part of the young people was the source of
much conflict, as it not only challenged the elders’ spirituality, but also offended their sense
of decency in a hierarchical elder-oriented culture. The second hypothesis, then, stands as
amended: that the primary source of conflict was spiritual, but also that the conflict has been
largely dealt with.
4.3. The Youth and Pentecostalism

The third hypothesis builds on the second: the youth embraced Pentecostalism to
deal with spiritual and with social needs. The discussion above also applies here. The
evidence suggests that both spiritual and social factors are at work, but that the primary
attraction among youth was the spiritual. The strongest support for the importance of
Pentecostalism’s contact with social networks came from the Pentecostals whom I
interviewed. Brethren in Christ did not refer to this dynamic at all. One may suggest that the
social dynamic applies most fully within the Pentecostal churches themselves, and that non-
Pentecostal churches (such as the BICC) who draw on Pentecostalism, have less need of
such networks. The BICC already have their own international network on which people in
Zimbabwe can draw. I began my sabbatical in Zimbabwe by attending the Mennonite W orld
Conference, hosted by the Zimbabwe BICC – a convincing demonstration of the network
the BICC already inhabits.
The spiritual attraction, bringing the Christian faith into every area of life, is clearly
the stronger attraction. Several BICC youth expressed their conviction that the best type of
Pentecostal was one who combines the BICC commitment to order and biblical knowledge
with the Pentecostal search for the immediacy of God’s Holy Spirit. In a similar vein one
elder observed that the best Christians are those who combine the biblical grounding of
Evangelical churches (such as the BICC) with the spiritual vitality of the Pentecostal
churches.
5. W here the Research Needs To Go

Although the above conclusions are of interest and significance in themselves, the
context which they describe calls for attention to a different set of questions. This closing
section considers what the primary direction might be. This direction relates to the life
situation in which Zimbabweans find themselves today. One leader spoke movingly of the
need for the church to help Zimbabweans acknowledge their anger at what has been done
to them in the political arena. Only then can their sickness begin to be healed. Given the
current context of Zimbabwe as a country in crisis, the hypotheses of this study do not
sufficiently address that crisis.
A different set of questions is required to understand the BICC and the Pentecostal
movement and their contribution to Zimbabwe today. Both the BICC and the Pentecostal
churches affirm the confession: “Jesus is Lord!” “UJesu uyiNkosi; iNkosi yamaKhosi!”
W hat are the political and social implications of that confession, and how does the church
work out these implications in the context of Zimbabwe? Both the BICC and the Pentecostal
churches have been primarily apolitical, at least formally. In practice many BICC leaders
have political connections, which were evident in the interviews I performed in 1992. But
at the formal level the BICC insists that it is not political, and Pentecostal churches do the
same.
But when the social context becomes as critical as it is today in Zimbabwe, the
church cannot attend to spiritual realities as though these are somehow divorced from social
realities. Indeed, all three phases of research indicated that people in Zimbabwe do see life
as whole: political, social, and spiritual all together. One Sunday we attended a Baptist
church – normally as apolitical as the BICC, and close friends historically of the BICC. The
preacher read from Exodus 14, and then described the plight of the Israelites trapped
between the Egyptian Army, the strongest of their day, and the sea before them, with the
words: “They must have felt like Zimbabweans!” The political implications were clear,
calling for hope for Zimbabweans trapped between a collapsing economy and the current
government.
Another Sunday we attended a BICC congregation. Reflecting on Jesus’ words,
“By their fruit you will know them,” the preacher observed that politicians from ZANU-PF
the ruling party) and from the MDC (the opposition party) all make many promises, but that
people judge them based on results, not on promises. Then he added, “Some people are
afraid of change, but God teaches us that we do not need to be afraid of change!” Since
“Change” is the motto of the opposition party in Zimbabwe, one hears the political
application beneath the words.
Although I observed these comments in sermons, I did not hear counsel on how to
act in Zimbabwe today from either the BICC or the Pentecostal leaders with whom I spoke.
Officially the BICC remains apolitical. But to the extent that the situation in Zimbabwe has
a moral element – seen in the prevalence of violence and of corruption – it is necessary for
the Church to speak and act in response. W riting from the safe confines of an office in
Canada I cannot state what the church should do. The specifics must be forged within the
heat of the fire that burns in Zimbabwe today. But violence and corruption always have a
moral and ethical component, which the church must address. This truth applied in Rhodesia
of old and in South Africa in the days of apartheid; it remains today.
In Zimbabwe, the Catholic Archbishop of Bulawayo has spoken openly and
courageously about the situation in Zimbabwe. The question this paper suggests for further
research is: W hat do the Pentecostal churches and the BICC say and do in the current
situation? I have asked about the Pentecostal influence in general, which usually turns back
to the specific practices of mass prayer, speaking in tongues, and healing. W hat contribution
does Pentecostalism bring to social and political issues?
W ithin the BICC the church can draw also on its Anabaptist heritage. The writings
of John Howard Yoder, for example, are one source of insight. Yoder (1984) observes that
the radical reformation (the term he uses consistently for the Anabaptist movement and its
heirs) is radical precisely at the point of its locus of authority. The commitment to non-
violence, for example, rooted as it is in radical obedience to the teaching and example of
Jesus, rejects the accommodation that the main part of the Reformation churches made with
the State. The B ICC in Zimbabwe is in a unique position to synthesize the Pentecostal
“UJesu uyiNkosi” with the Anabaptist radical commitment to obedience. Obedience to Jesus
in the power of the Holy Spirit suggests possibilities beyond the ordinary.
Although outside researchers may not prescribe what the church should do; we may
contribute to the conversation by observing what the church is doing. W e ask questions, but
the answers must be forged within Zimbabwe. In my estimation the essential question
involves the spiritual dimension of political life. W hatever answer is given must bring
together the work of the Holy Spirit in the life of the church with the current political and
economic context of life in Zimbabwe.
The Zimbabwe National Pastors Conference (ZNPC) and the Evangelical
Fellowship of Zimbabwe (EFZ) are two such organizations that involve evangelical
churches such as the BICC. Heads of Denominations (HOD), the Zimbabwe Council of
Churches (ZCC), Christian Care, Crisis Coalition, and the Catholic Commission for Justice
and Peace are other organizations that have responded to the present crisis. It would be
misleading to suggest that the church as a whole has not spoken out. The Catholic
Commission, especially, has spoken to such issues as Zimbabwe faces today for many years
(Auret 1992). W hat is needed is for the church to speak and act jointly with sister churches
in the rest of Africa and throughout the world. Events since 2003 have only emphasized the
need for such speech and action.
6. Conclusion
Forty-five years ago a writer described the struggle to build the Kariba dam. He
closed his book-length story with the following words.
Around you slumbers Nyaminyami . . . .But although his
power has been tamed it has not been destroyed, and those who have seen
his anger do not laugh as readily at the forebodings of the primitive
tribesmen who recognize the white man’s victory, but who feel there will
be a price to pay for it.
A price indeed there must be, differ though it may from the
superstitious fears of the Batonka who believe that the lake will take its
revenge. For the more securely western man establishes himself in the
empty wastes of Africa, the more urgent it is that he should come to terms
spiritually with his environment; and with the Africans whose home it is
. . . (Clements 1959: 219)
In many respects, Clements reflects the thought of his age. He assumed that the
W hite settlers were permanent in a place many were only visiting, and that the indigenous
people were secondary to the impact of Settler life. But in his conclusion he remains
accurate. If the people of any country live with constant violence and corruption, the land
itself becomes polluted, and the cure for the situation requires the power of God.
Pentecostalism, with its emphasis on spiritual power, seems well suited for such
a task. Daneel (2001) describes a movement in southern Zimbabwe in which African
indigenous churches, whom we may count among the larger Pentecostal movement, have
apprehended the spiritual task of healing the land. It is not yet clear, however, that the
church as a whole – either Pentecostal or the BICC – has grasped this task clearly.
The challenge for the church in Zimbabwe is to bring the power of God’s Holy
Spirit to the healing of their land – to help people “to come to terms spiritually with [their]
environment.” The challenge for research, and for the church around the world who walk
alongside our brothers and sisters in Zimbabwe, is to lift up the words and deeds of the
church, critiquing and supporting at every step.
W orks Cited
Anderson, Allan. 2000 Zion and Pentecost: The Spirituality and Experience of Pentecostal and Zionist/Apostolic
Churches in South Africa. Pretoria, South Africa: UNISA.
Auret, Diana. 1992 Reaching for Justice: The Catholic Commission for Justice and Peace, 1972-1992. Gweru,
Zimbabwe: Mambo.
Bhebe, Ngwabi. 1979 Christianity and Traditional Religion in Western Zimbabwe, 1859-1923. London:
Longman.
Born, Jacob Bryan. 2002 “‘Promise of Power’ – An Analysis of Bible Life Ministries in Botswana.” MA Thesis
for UNISA, Pretoria, South Africa.
Chan Stephen. 2003 Robert Mugabe: A Life of Power and Violence. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan.
Clark, Matthew S., Henry I. Lederle, et al 1983 What Is Distinctive About Pentecostal Theology? Pretoria, South
Africa: UNISA.
Clements, Frank. 1959 Kariba: The Struggle With the River God. London: Methuen.
Climenhaga, Daryl R. 1994 “Political Revolution and Ecclesiastical Evolution: The Bulawayo Brethren in Christ
Churches.” In Brethren in Christ History and Life XVII(2): 173-203.
____ 1998 “Through African Eyes: Reflections on Anniversary Plays.” In Brethren in Christ History and Life
XXI(3): 343-358.
____ 1999 “The Spirit and the Church: The Brethren in Christ and Pentecostalism in Zimbabwe.” In Brethren
in Christ History and Life XXII(2): 273-290.
Corten, Andre and Ruth Marshall-Fratani, editors. 2001 Between Babel and Pentecost: Transnational
Pentecostalism in Africa and Latin America. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University.
Daneel, M.L. 2001 African Earthkeepers: Wholistic Interfaith Mission. Maryknoll, NY: Orbis.
Davidson, H. Frances. 1915 South and South-Central Africa. Elgin, IL: Brethren Publishing House.
Dempster, Murray W., Byron D. Klaus, and Douglas Petersen, editors. 1999 The Globalization of Pentecostalism:
A Religion Made to Travel. Oxford, UK: Regnum.
Dube, Bekithemba, Doris Dube, and Barbara Nkala. 2003 “Brethren in Christ Churches in Southern Africa.” in
A Global Mennonite History, Volume One: Africa. Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press. C. Arnold Snyder
and John A. Lapp, general editors, 119-219.
Hiebert, Paul G. 1997 Anthropological Reflections on Missiological Issues. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker.
Hiebert, Paul G., Tite R. Tienou, and Daniel R. Shaw. 1999 Understanding Folk Religion: A Christian Response
to Popular Beliefs and Practices. Grand Rapids, MI: Baker.
Horn, J. N. 1989 From Rags to Riches. Pretoria, South Africa: UNISA..
Kailing, Joel. 1994 “A New Solution to the African Christian Problem.” In Missiology XXII(4): 489-506.
Urban-Mead, Wendy. 2004 “Religion, Women, and Gender in the Brethren in Christ Church, Matabeleland,
Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, 1898-1978.” Ph.D. Thesis for Columbia University, New York.
Wittlinger, Carlton O. 1978 Quest for Piety and Obedience. Nappanee, IN: Evangel Press.
“SEDUCED BY THE GOD OF LIFE” - M Y PILGRIM AGE IN M ISSION
W illis G. Horst
Texts: Isaiah 52.6-8, Revelations 21.1-5

God's pursuit of humankind throughout history has often been referred to as wooing
or as seducing God's people. As I think about my pilgrimage in mission, it seems that in
spite of my own resistance, God's persuasion has slowly, but persistently, convinced me to
embrace new challenges.
Like Moses, who resisted God's path for him for 40 years, and was finally
convinced at the burning bush, I, too, have come to new understandings of God's mission.
Like M oses, what was at first a curiosity, drew me, until my doubts and excuses were
overcome, and I embraced the challenge. I gave in to God's seductive persuasion.
Search
As I look at the track record of world Christianity, I have to recognize that overall
it’s a pretty poor showing.
W hile many, many beautiful works and actions have been and continue to be
accomplished in and through the Christian faith (and I affirm every one of them), the overall
result of the effects upon the world of those who claim Christ as their inspiration is not
encouraging. Christian history is simply too full of conquests, crusades, invasions,
holocausts, wars, empire building,
More people in Latin America than ever before, question the name “Christian”, not
only because of the conquest of Indigenous America which began in the name of Christ over
500 years ago, but also for what they see on the news media in recent times. Much looks to
them like fresh abuses, like very evil actions, carried out in the name of Christianity.
I can no longer believe in a Christendom kind of Christianity, with a Constantinian
mentality bent on conquering the world for Christ, a Christianity which is convinced that the
only way to save our world is to use preemptive warfare of the cruelest kind. A Christianity
which shamelessly and openly calls for the assassination of a foreign head of state in the
interests of the U.S. empire. The use of terrorism in the name of Christ has nothing to do
with the gospel Jesus taught and lived.
Jesus confessed his own pessimism at one point when he asked, W ill there be faith
left on earth when that Day comes? (Luke 18.8). Still, Jesus prayed that God’s Kingdom
might yet be realized here on earth, as it is in heaven.
Jesus knew that what really matters in this life is love, relationships, justice,
reconciliation, and faith. The way we respond and relate to others has much more to do with
Willis G. Horst, married to Byrdalene, is completing more than 30 years of a ministry of

accompaniment with Indian church communities in the Argentine Chaco.

W illis G. Horst 43
the life God gives than anything we may put into words in even the most orthodox language.
Personal story
I was born and reared within a religious system, which focused on right living, and
didn't talk much about faith.
I was lured on in my personal spiritual growth in my late teens during the 1950s
by an emphasis in the Mennonite Church on renewal, which emphasized revival,
evangelism, tent meetings, conversion, and assurance of salvation, while denominational
distinctives were down played. The enthusiasm for revival overshadowed the theology of
the goodness of all Creation.
I moved on to college and seminary, where the emphasis in the 1960s was on
engaging the world with the whole Gospel as understood in an Anabaptist framework. Peace
and justice were part of the calling. T hen we were sent out by a denominational mission
board which believes strongly in holistic mission, yet often sees the growth of the
denomination as part of the missionary mandate.
In short, I went out to take the truth I believed I had found in Jesus, to convince
others to accept that truth the way I understood it.
However, over the years of interaction with Native American believers, I was
gently led to recognize that God is larger than the truth I claimed to understand. Looking
at Jesus through the eyes of Indigenous believers slowly convinced me that Jesus is much
bigger than I had imagined.
I went out to help others to convert to Jesus, and discovered that I was also
converted in the process.
Like Peter in Acts 10, when the Spirit taught him how to relate to pagans, I was
further converted. Gently and slowly, the God of Creation convinced me that I needed to
embrace that which I at first thought unnecessary, and even ungodly.
I realized that those to whom I had gone were already engaged in a spiritual
journey long before western missionaries ever arrived on the scene.
A Toba pastor said, “So much of what our ancestors believed and lived is like what
we read in the Old Testament. W e know God was with our ancestors.”
Another Toba believer said, “In the time of our ancestors God was with them here
on earth. He went with us, he responded to our needs. After the Christians — the white
people — came, God went up to heaven to be on a huge throne up there.” (The Native
people understood that the God of the invaders was very distant and not interested in them.)
I was led by the God of Life to recognize the presence of the Creator in the life of
all things, to see and accept the Christian life lived out in ways quite different from my own,
to recognize the divine truth in the other.
As Mattie Mast, a former worker in the Chaco, once put it,
“I went to the Chaco as a seller of the Pearl of Great Price. Twenty years
44 “Seduced by the God of Life” - My Pilgrim age in Mission
later, I found myself a fellow worker with those I had gone to serve,
searching for the pearls of the Creator’s presence, and the truth hidden
away in the lives and culture around me.”
I, too, have found myself among a people who thought in a very different way than I did,
hosted by a people who thought inclusively, receptively, collectively,
A people who worshiped God with a total intensity, whose faith was strong, a
people with a naturally spiritual orientation to the world. I found a wisdom based on
relationship rather than on intellect and head knowledge.
Story
The Gospel has to do with story, with the story of salvation, with what we learned
in seminary was Heilsgeschichte, 'salvation history'. It's truly a wonderful and exciting
experience when one begins to understand the Bible as one overarching story, as we learn
to see the Bible as one connected story of a people moving through their salvation history.
The problem with that concept is that we were taught that there was only one true
Heilsgeschichte.
I have been persuaded that God’s story is much bigger than the history of Israel’s
salvation found in our Old Testament. God’s story is even much larger than the church. We
used to hear that “outside the church there is no salvation”. Living and serving among the
Toba Native believers, I have been forced to realize that no one is outside of the care of our
Heavenly Father. The providence of God reaches all of Creation. Now I prefer to express
the sovereignty of God by phrases like, “No one’s story is left out of God’s story,” or,
“There is no salvation story outside of God’s truth.”
Of course, many people still don’t know about the Jesus part of God’s story. And
that’s why the missionary movement isn't over yet. But what I’ve come to believe is that no
one must leave their own story in order to enter into God’s story.
The Jesus story takes as many shapes as there are persons who join it. This means
that we do not picture evangelism as going out to get people into the lifeboat, pulling them
out of their lostness in the sea of life. God wants to save them by redeeming their own
story, making it possible for each to keep their own identity. To follow Jesus Christ
authentically, we must each continue to walk in our own story. W e follow Jesus' example
of self-emptying (kenosis) in order to serve. However, Jesus himself didn't lose his own
identity in his self-emptying.
That I have left my own W isler Old Order Mennonite childhood culture, doesn't
mean that I have totally left that way of seeing the world. There are many values, and some
ways of understanding life, which I still affirm from that past. (For example: the joy of
simple things, a love for the land, the strength of the extended family, the value of
peoplehood in history, a sense of counterculture, a basic mistrust of institutions, among
others.) I still look at Jesus through the eyes of my own background.
W illis G. Horst 45
Native Toba believers also understand Jesus within their own framework. Ways
of understanding illness, ways of maintaining the harmony and balance of the universe, ways
of struggling for survival in a world full of adversity — these aspects of a Toba worldview
remain. For them, Jesus heals sickness, has power to perform extraordinary feats, which
only a very powerful shaman could possibly do. And thus, the W ord of God also becomes
Native American.
W isdom
I have heard the voice of God in the wisdom expressed deep within Indigenous
culture. Each people has its wise ones— its sages, such as the three who came from afar to
visit the newborn Jesus.
W isdom, wherever she may be found, is the hope of the world, because wisdom,
no matter how partial, is related to and fulfilled in Jesus. The wisdom of God, as we see it
lived out in Jesus, is part of the same wisdom that is expressed in many places, using many
names. All expressions of that true wisdom are caught up and transformed by Jesus.
I have begun to ask myself, W ho are the “unreached” in today's world? Somewhere
I recently read that North American Christianity has become “a consumerist menu of
personal spiritual care products, intended to assure eternal life at minimal cost to the
customer.” What a distortion of Jesus' message!
The truly unreached of today’s world include those who call themselves Christian
but haven’t been reached by the message of God’s peace and justice, love and mercy, as
taught and lived out by Jesus.
I have discovered that American Indian peoples are not ‘unreached’ by God in their
pre-Christian condition. Rather they have a deep spirituality which apprehends God in such
a way that often outshines us western Christians— a willingness to share all with others in
need; an open inclusiveness shown toward others who differ significantly from their own
way of being; a sense of community and peoplehood which goes far beyond our
individualism; a willingness to live in their environment within its limits of
sustainability— to mention a few.
How many times I would have preferred the church service to end after the first
three hours or so!, while the Toba Indian leaders followed the Spirit's leading right on for
another couple of hours, praising, praying, and preaching!
How often I gave up praying for someone's deliverance, while the Toba prayer
ministers continued on throughout the night!
How often I felt the fatigue of struggling in the face of what seemed like
insurmountable odds, and was ready to give up, while for the Toba, there will always be
tomorrow, another chance to follow God's leading in the face of opposition.
W e continue to believe that Jesus is the W ay, the Truth, and the Life, but we
understand that as going far beyond the way Jesus has been understood and interpreted by
much of the Christian movement to which that same Jesus gave birth. Jesus is the only way
to the Father because Jesus' life, teachings, and example, which led to his death and
resurrection, are for us the criteria with which all truth is judged or evaluated.
Eternal Life, Here on Earth

The mission of God, as it was revealed in the Jesus-event, is much greater, offers
so much more, than a free ticket to heaven after death. Those who accept the Jesus W ay of
life and death, begin living the Kingdom now, here on earth, as Jesus desired, when he
taught his disciples to pray, “Thy Kingdom come here on earth, as it is in heaven.”
So we are much more interested that more and more persons around the world
begin living that same Faith and Life, than that they profess our religion.
As someone expressed it, “Faith is a journey, not a possession.” And another
said that God's mission is “not a goal to be achieved, but a gift to be received.” Ralph
W inter, a leading missiologist (and editor of Frontier Missions publication), wrote in a
recent editorial,
“W e must understand that getting people to heaven is merely a by-
product of missions.
Missions does not boil down to persuading people that they
ought to say certain things, and go through certain motions in order to
make sure they will get to heaven.”
Heaven beyond death is an important part of eternal life, but it is only a part.
Oscar Romero, one of the modern martyrs, assassinated in Central America, said
shortly before his death:
“Christ is now in history.
Christ is in the womb of the people.
Christ is now bringing about
the new heavens and the new earth.”
The good news of God's Reign, the Gospel, was already around in Isaiah's time,
long before Jesus came to earth. Even though in the context of Israel's captivity it was not
evident that God was ruling, that God was in charge of history, yet the hope was proclaimed,
the reality of the Reign of God was announced. How beautiful the feet of those who brought
the news and announced it!
Many years later, when Jesus came announcing the Reign of God (M ark 1.14), his
language came from this passage out of Israel’s salvation history. W henever there is good
news announced to a people, it must be expressed in the language of the people’s own
salvation history. It must be announced in the words of their own story.
In Isaiah 52.7 the prophet says,
“How lovely on the mountains
are the feet of a herald,
Someone proclaiming that all is well,
W illis G. Horst 47
Bringing good news,

Proclaiming deliverance,
Saying to Zion,
'Your God is reigning!' ”
God's reign is a present reality!
Isaiah does not say my God, nor our God, but your God reigns. Dare we go to
those who call on God by another name and challenge them with the Good News that “your
God is reigning”? There is , we believe, only one true God, the God of Life. However, I'm
not at all convinced that God is known only by the name by which I call on God.
Hope
In today’s pluralistic reality, our hope is grounded in a vision of mission which
transforms the conquering mentality of the W est into the serving mentality of Jesus.
In the book of Revelation Jesus' expectation is expressed once again, this time in
the dreams of John, looking forward to the time when the kingdom(s) of this world have
become the Kingdom of our God and of God's Chosen One! (Rev. 11.15). I can no longer
believe that will be brought about through violent means! (Although it certainly will not
happen without violent response!).
I can no longer believe that God's Reign will come through converting all the world
to my religious expression. Because no religion can save. It is the right relationship to the
Creator that can save. The One on the throne with the God of the universe, who has the keys
to human history, is, and always will be, the wounded Lamb, the One willingly suffering
for the liberation of others. The Lamb is our salvation, and not only ours, but of the whole
Creation! The One who, for once and for all time, renounced violence in favor of loving
service to all others, including the enemy. The only power that will transform the world is
the Gospel of Jesus, which is the Gospel of peace, the Gospel of forgiveness, the Gospel of
healing for all those who willingly receive God’s grace.
The God of Life, is here— Emanuel, “God-with-us”, is with all Creation. The One
and Only true God Reigns!
A New W ave of God's M ission

Sisters and brothers, the missionary work of the church is not finished, it is
beginning a new stage.
Frank Epp, former president of Conrad G rebel College, wrote these prophetic
words some time ago:
“Now that the quantitative dimensions (territory, geography, demography,
the ends of the earth [physical, measureable]) are definitely being
circumscribed, we can give fresh attention to quality and to new
perceptions of the kingdom [ways of understanding God’s Reign].
W e should now see that the kingdom of God is really the
application of the will of God for all society here and now. The kingdom
is internal but also external; it is personal but also social; it is spiritual but
also material. It knows fulfillment in the future but only if it begins in
the present. It is a kingdom of heaven but mostly as a blueprint for the
will of God to be done on earth.
This fuller, better, wholistic, more beautiful and challenging idea
of the kingdom of God now wants to become central to the missionary
task. It needs to be applied at home and abroad.”
W e live in a very different context from that of our forbears who forged the
Anabaptist movement in the midst of the feudal societies of 16 th century Europe. And yet
our response to the ills of our time must be based on a similar commitment to the God of
peace and justice.
W e stand on the brink of a new chapter in the history of world mission. In fact, that
movement is already happening all over the world. W e, as followers of Jesus' W ay are
invited to choose whether or not we will join God's mission.
I believe the Mennonite Church has been uniquely prepared by God's Spirit to
affirm and to live out this new way of mission. She is poised to participate in a significant
way.
- Shaped by the Anabaptist way of understanding Christ, we have a message of
hope and healing, of reconciliation and unity, for the nations, and for all Creation.
- Following Jesus in nonviolent resistance to evil, many of us are searching for and
practicing bold alternative actions.
- Molded by generations of active service in response to world suffering, a good
number of us share a willingness to give up privilege and power in order to achieve
a just distribution of the Creation's resources.
- Guided by the Spirit of Life to care for God's earth and to value diversity, we can
hear the call to go and share the message of Christ humbly as we enter the dialog.
In the words of the new tagline of Mission Network, “Together, sharing all of
Christ with all of Creation.”
Come
Today, if you hear the voice of the Lord, come,
come and discover the God of Life in new ways.
Come, and keep on being converted.
Come, join with your sisters and brothers of all peoples on earth,
discover together the Pearl of Great Price, hidden in the many treasures the God
of life has already formed and continues to shape,
discover God’s intention for all of Creation,
discover your place in God's program.
A NEW CALL TO M ISSION
W illis G Horst
The time is right (kairos) for re-defining mission in our Anabaptist-oriented

churches. A number of factors help bring this into focus— contextual changes in our world,
advances in Bible study methods, and new historical awareness in our own tradition, among
others. I will suggest that these changes call for corresponding adjustments in our theology
of mission. I will offer a brief definition of our part as disciples of Jesus in God's mission.
Finally, I will attempt to describe how this New Call to Mission can be understood in a way
that remains faithful to our conviction regarding the uniqueness of Jesus, while bringing
renewed urgency to the task of evangelism.
Thirty-plus years of service in a context of missionary presence among the
Indigenous nations in the Chaco region of northern Argentina have given me the rare
opportunity to hear and learn from believers in Jesus of a radically different cultural
orientation. Seeing the world through indigenous eyes increases awareness of factors of
peoplehood and Creation, as well as sensitivity to spiritual and political domination.
Exposure to the process of Bible translation has taught me the value and nature of the texts.
Sustained dialog with Native American believers around the Bible texts has nurtured me
with the variety of possible interpretations. Constant ecumenical dialog with workers other
than Mennonite, who are also involved in attempts to bring Christ’s healing and hope to bear
on the plight of the poor, has broadened my appreciation for other spiritual traditions.
Through these experiences God has persuaded me of the urgent need to broaden my
understanding of God’s work and mission in the world.
The New Call to Mission seeks to bridge the present division between those who
call us to more enthusiastic evangelism (Can't keep quiet!) and those who follow the search
to actively implement peace and justice concerns (Stop the war!). W e must join passion
about mission with com-passion for Creation. Nonviolent peacemaking is an essential
aspect of both the Gospel message and of the salvation that the whole Creation needs for a
sustainable future.
This call defines mission not along denominational lines, nor even along religious
lines, but along the common search (by whatever name) for living out God's Reign of peace,
justice, and love. All who sincerely seek to discover and practice alternative life styles,
which effectively promote “the peaceable kingdom,” must now join hands. To be missional
is to actively work towards a sustainable Creation under the Creator's reign, including
peaceful co-existence among the nations. I use the term “nations” in the New Testament
Willis G. Horst, senior missionary with Mennonite Mission Network, lives in Formosa,
Argentina. He presented this call to elicit counsel and discussion, with persons of mission
experience in other continents or settings.

50 A New Call to Mission
sense of “ethnic peoples” (ethnia), rather than the modern meaning of “nation-state.”
Religious dialog
The urge to share our faith with the whole world must be balanced by an openness
to learn from others. Recent history has brought a new openness to the scope of God's
Spirit. W orld migration and communication patterns now frequently place us in close
proximity with those of other cultures and religions. Affirming diversity and plurality as
part of God's way has become a recognizable feature of the Mennonite ethos. Our
ethnocentric presuppositions have been seriously challenged. W e have been forced to
reconsider the relationship between Christ and culture. The southern shift of the worldwide
Anabaptist movement has blessed us with a broad acceptance of cultural diversity. Honest
and serious dialog with those of other Christian confessions, including Roman Catholic, has
stretched our inclusiveness. Anabaptist/Mennonite missionaries and church leaders have
been led into close interaction with world religions other than Christian. All of these factors
have increased the potential for a worldwide movement of mutual strengthening among all
peoples in the common struggle for survival.
Focus on the Periphery

God's saving action in history prioritizes those left out of the mainstream. God's
nature is to show mercy, compassion, forgiveness and justice to those on the periphery of
society. This is confirmed by Jesus' understanding of his work as serving those in need.
God liberates the oppressed, heals the sick, and seeks the lost. This means for mission, that
we will concentrate our efforts on the needy and the “seekers” rather than on those who
seem to have found a satisfactory (for them) answer to the human dilemma. It is not those
who are whole, but the ill, who need a physician, Jesus said. (M t. 9:12,13) In order to avoid
confusion in a world where “Christian” is too often tied to political and economic power,
we must even differentiate our mission efforts from those who claim to be Christian, but
who continue to disregard God's preference for those on the margins. W e must be clear in
rejecting the attraction of power, which seems to characterize the movement towards a new
globalization of “evangelical Christendom.”
Suffering humanity is not waiting for someone to come and “save” individuals in
the name of the Jesus of a misdirected “Christianity”. W hat the world does welcome are the
extended hands of compassionate persons ready to take up solidarity with those who suffer.
The growing sectors of marginalized humanity now desperately need those willing to
renounce their first allegiance to the Empire. Identifying with those on the periphery allows
us to join in God's action on their behalf. This means we will take seriously the spiritualities
being articulated by the often-neglected sectors of society—minorities, women, indigenous,
poor, and the unschooled, among others.
W illis G. Horst 51
Care for Creation

In addition to our long-standing rural “love of the land”, a legacy of extended
involvement in development ministries, especially in areas of natural and social disasters,
has taught us the importance of caring for the earth. Scientific investigations confirm the
necessity of limiting human use of non-renewable resources. Thus, environmental concerns
are absolutely vital if we claim to follow the Jesus-way-of-life. A renewed theology of the
goodness of God’s creation needs to take precedence over a theology of individual
redemption that ignores the non-human elements of the universe. Embracing a responsible
life style based on sound ecological principles must become an integral part of our mission
efforts. W e will renounce privilege and power in the interests of diminishing the
exploitation of Creation.
W e must now face up to the widely recognized causal relationship between the
wealth of First W orld nation-states and multinational enterprises and the exploitation of the
Third W orld. Bleeding off the Third W orld’s resources to maintain an unsustainable way
of life for a rich minority has led to the marginalization and impoverishment of a majority
of the world’s human population. The idea of sustainable “development” must give way to
sustainable “well being”— shalom— for all peoples. W e must therefore, question seriously
many “development” efforts, which in the name of Christ, and with all good intentions, push
Third W orld peoples— especially Indigenous nations— into capitalist economic solutions.
These proposed First W orld “solutions” often result in the destruction of both the natural
environment, as well as the alternative worldviews of marginalized minorities.
W e must lay aside as a missionary goal that of progressively conquering the world
for Christianity, and redirect mission energies towards the common search for living
together with all Creation. This means further that we will be committed to a discipleship
that seeks distributive justice as a political option.
Interpreting the Bible

The early Anabaptists searched the Bible together in defining the shape of the
believing community. That communal reading of the W ord made it possible for the Free
Church tradition (which is neither Catholic nor Protestant) to hear both the best of
scholarship as well as the testimony of the common uneducated believer regarding biblical
interpretation. Pastors and other church leaders who have benefitted in their personal
spiritual formation from the use of recent scholarly tools for Bible study must help
congregations learn to trust the W ord of God in their use of the Scriptures without
depending on the crutch of “inerrancy” doctrines. Recognition of the divine-human nature
of inspired texts frees us to honor God's action within human history as well as over and
beyond it. This calls us to look critically at both the history of biblical interpretation as well
as our own Anabaptist tradition.
W e are learning how reading the Scriptures “through the eyes of Jesus” (that is,
following Jesus in selectively re-reading his own sacred history) provides a model for an
appropriate discipleship life-style. The short parable in Matthew 13:51-52, is clear in this
regard— preparation for God’s Reign involves the wise evaluation and choosing from among
the old as well as the new.
Through the Scriptures, Jesus and the early church also give us a paradigm for
mission: God’s project for humanity is that the Jesus-way will enhance and fulfill whatever
has already been discerned as being “of God” in any people. As it was for Israel, God’s
previous action on behalf of Life in each cultural context already provides the matrix for the
Gospel. The divine presence is searched for and sensed within each culture, each people,
and each religion. Our involvement in God’s mission should affirm the life projects already
functioning. Thus, to be missional is to help extend the awareness of God’s
Reign— shalom— to all nations (ethnia), literally “to the ends of the earth”. To extend
God’s Reign is to both bring it to a fuller consciousness, on the one hand, and to live it
out— make it visible—inviting all humankind through word and deed to return to God.
The Shape of the New Call to M ission

These changes call for a reorienting of content, methods and goals for mission.
God's project of shalom for all of Creation, including humanity, now takes center stage. The
building of the institutional church is no longer the central goal of mission. Rather, making
God’s Reign visible is understood to be both means and end for mission. Peace and justice,
nonviolent resistance to evil, and the Abrahamic blessing of all peoples, will characterize
mission practice. Instead of doctrinal orthodoxy, ethical behavior in following the Jesus-
way becomes the criteria of faithfulness. The interconnectedness of all things—creation,
humans, and the divine—will help define the content of the missionary message. The goal
of mission will be sustainable life on earth and the peaceful coexistence among people of
all nations (ethnia) and religions. Love and truth will be affirmed wherever they are found.
Mission should seek conversion not to a particular religion, but to the Jesus-way-of-living
on earth and in the world.
The church as the “body of Christ” is understood to be present wherever true
community happens, where true agape love is shared. Therefore, to be missional is to be
intentional about building relationships that result in the experience of true community. By
“true community” I mean the experience of authentically interacting, sharing, and
celebrating with those who profess basic human values of love, justice, and freedom, in the
manner and style of Jesus, whether or not his name is acknowledged.
Followers of Jesus will also gather to worship in the institutional church setting in
each cultural context. However, since each expression of spirituality must be culturally
relevant in order to be valid and meaningful, there will perhaps be as many varieties of
worship as there are human cultures. Each form of devotion and corporate worship grows
out of a particular spiritual journey and ought to be valued by the worldwide church without
W illis G. Horst 53
seeking to universalize any one experience of God. This recognition should allow us to also
worship freely in our own ways without being embarrassed by our own peculiar worship
style, nor being handicapped by fears of appearing arrogant.
W e will worship corporately with enthusiasm and conviction in appropriate
manners without seeking to spread our own culturally unique expressions. W hat we will
seek to spread is the recognition of God’s Reign.
This way of understanding the missional task of the church inevitably raises
questions for all who are committed to Jesus as God’s definitive word for humanity. I turn
now to consider two common objections: 1) what about our conviction that Jesus is the only
way? and, 2) if we are no longer motivated primarily to save souls from eternal punishment,
what will happen to the sense of urgency for mission?
The Particularity of Jesus

To follow Jesus we must keep deed and word together, accepting at face value both
John's and James' admonitions to that effect, as they affirm that if anyone says he loves his
brother, but does not [serve] him, that one does not show faith. (1 John 3:14-20, James 2:14-
17) W e must, therefore, not interpret the Reformers' “by grace alone” teaching to mean “by
faith alone”. Jesus' rhetorical question in Mt. 21:28-32, regarding which of the two boys did
his father's will, should be a clue as to the relative importance of saying “yes” and “not
doing”, or saying “no” and then “doing.” W e can rejoice with integrity when anyone under
any “name,” religious or otherwise, acts like Jesus, whether or not they use his name. We
should promote an “action-centered” spirituality rather than a “belief-centered” religion.
This means that the measure of salvation is properly understood in ethical terms: “by their
fruits you shall know them,” rather than by the degree to which verbal affirmations reflect
orthodox theology. The alternative— a belief-centered faith— too easily excuses non-Christ-
like behavior.
That Jesus himself is present in a spiritual sense wherever the Spirit of God is
moving should not surprise nor scandalize a people who have a generations-long tradition
of taking seriously the words of Mt. 25:40, “W henever you did it for [served] any of my
people no matter how unimportant they seemed [the weak, oppressed, left out ones], you did
it for me.” (Contemporary English Version) Surely, whatever else Jesus might have meant
by those words, he must have meant that somehow his presence/spirit/essence reaches far
beyond his physical person. In fact, that “presence” is to be defined by the expression of
compassionate service received by the needy, wherever and by whomever it may be
performed.
In the New Testament cultural context the formula “in my name” was not an
encouragement to repeat the word (name) “Jesus” in order to increase the available power
in any magical way, nor to make the accompanying action more effective. Rather, “in his
name” meant “by his authority” or “in agreement with his spirit, or his love.” The quasi-
magical qualities of repeating the word “Jesus” (though sometimes effective) may have
much to do with the faith of the one who conjures him, as with the names of other “holy
beings” used in this way around the world.
From this we understand that “no other name” means “no other way of acting than
the Jesus way”. It is this Jesus-way-of-acting that gives credibility and thus authority to our
claim of salvation. Our tradition has taught us the profound truth that deed and word must
be kept together. As Anabaptist leader Hans Hut claimed, “If any one would know Jesus,
he [she] must follow him in daily life.” This is further clarified by Jesus' words in Mt. 18:20
(CEV) about the “two or three of you [who] come together in my [his] name.” Certainly the
assurance of his presence, “I am there with you.” is contingent on the quality of their
togetherness “in Christ”, not on a literal repetition of the word “Jesus”. Even the simple cup
of water given “in my name” (that is, in the attitude and spirit of Jesus' compassion, with or
without any repetition of the name “Jesus”) will be effective and have value in the economy
of God's Reign.
So, what may we conclude about the particularity of Jesus and the words attributed
to him, “No one comes to the Father except through me”? M ight Jesus not have meant, “No
one can know God truly except the one who practices the life God has shown you through
me”? In fact, in all three synoptic Gospels we find Jesus' hard saying about following him
to the cross, “Unless you take up your cross and follow me, you cannot be my disciple.”
(Mt.16:24, Mk.8:34, Lk. 9:23, Lk 14.27)
This, however, does not preclude those who practice the Jesus-way-of-life without
having heard of Jesus or in response to another name. Paul says as much in Rom 2:14-16
(my paraphrase), “Those who live according to [God's] law, even though they don't know
that law, may be acceptable to God.” Peter affirms the same truth in Acts 10:34-35 (CEV),
“Now I am certain that God treats all people alike. God is pleased with everyone who
worships him and does right, no matter what nation [ethnia] they come from.”
Thus, we understand mission as extending not necessarily the linguistic term
“Jesus” nor the so-called “Christian” religion, but the life of shalom, the Jesus-way-of-being
in the world. W e, who are committed to following Jesus, look not only to the atonement of
his death on the cross, but to the more complete Jesus-event— Jesus’ foreshadowed coming,
his life and teachings, death and resurrection— for the criteria with which to evaluate or
define salvation. For us, it is appropriate living that opens the way to the future reign of
God more than mental assent to the truth of Jesus’ death “for me”.
W hen others, who may not agree with us on doctrines of the atonement, find the
inspiration to live the Jesus-way-of-being, we will rejoice. W e will eagerly link our spiritual
journeys with theirs. Perhaps they belong to those other sheep whom Jesus claimed, but
were not of the same fold. (John 10:16) W e will claim as the true W ay for all
peoples— what is right and what God demands—“See that justice is done, let mercy be your
first concern, and humbly obey your God”. (Micah 6:8 CEV)
W illis G. Horst 55
Urgency
Today the question of urgency for being involved in mission has shifted.
Evangelism should now be motivated not by the rescuing of as many souls as possible from
their sure doom in hell. Rather, we must join together with all others who work to extend
reconciliation and peace while recovery of a sustainable Creation is still possible. The earth
and her populations may yet have the possibility to recover from humankind's abusive
exploitation. W e still have the option before us to renounce war and violence. However,
time is crucial. Greed and M ammon are powerful gods presently moving the world on an
inevitable path of self-destruction. That hell, which now looms ahead, should shock us into
action! W e must mobilize a New Call to M ission now!
This is not to ignore nor annul the expectancy for the “coming” of Jesus. Neither
is it to fall into the idolatry of thinking that we can bring in the K ingdom of God by our
efforts. W e look forward to the intervention of the God of Life to “make all things new.”
At the same time we realize that “waiting and watching” for Christ's coming means being
fully and faithfully occupied in living out God's rule of shalom here on earth.
Neither does this approach to mission ignore or deny a living faith in Jesus for life
after death. For many, this may be the only hope left, since justice requires a setting right
of wrongs, if not in this life, then in the hereafter. We dare not, however, use this to
undercut the urgency of working for a more just society and a sustainable use of Creation
here and now. “On earth as it is in heaven” is a desire and goal for the church’s mission in
the present time and place.
W e believe the God of Life is already reigning and we are called to joyfully and
generously “extend the table!” However, we of the Anabaptist tradition want to keep head
and heart together. W e call upon our theologians and missiologists to help us understand
and articulate in common, everyday language what we hold in our hearts in this new time
for mission.
Concrete practices of the kind I am calling for, would be: some (though not all)
current programs of Mennonite Central Committee; some programs of Mennonite higher
educational institutions, such as Eastern Mennonite University’s Conflict Transformation
program, and Goshen College’s Merry Lea Environmental Center; some of the ministries
of various Mennonite mission boards, such as missionary presence practiced as
“accompaniment” by the Mennonite Team in the Argentine Chaco, the work of London
Mennonite Center; and some Mennonite efforts of involvement with African Initiated
Churches, to name just a few. W itness for Peace, Christian Peacemaker Teams, and
Mennonite Creation Care Network, are other examples that point in the right direction.
A New Call to M ission

W e in the Historic Peace Churches have a privileged position at this kairos moment
in time. Because of our formation within a spirituality of holistic mission, because we have
embraced the diversity of the global reality, and because we share the conviction that
nonviolent peacemaking is an essential dimension of the Gospel, we are uniquely prepared.
W e are blessed with a theology that encourages sharing openly and energetically with others
of our life in Jesus, while recognizing the truth in others who also follow the way of peace
in human and ecological relations.
W e must, however, embrace wholeheartedly the call to costly discipleship. We
must be ready to place obedience before success, and ethical practice before verbal
formulations. W e must be willing to renounce our privileged position of excessive
consumption of resources in favor of more sustainable life styles.
W e have before us the possibility of celebrating Christ with enthusiastic joy in
diversity— singing, shouting, dancing— even while we reject the temptation to support the
use of violence in order to extend or protect “Christian” power and hegemony in the world.
W e are called to live out the Jesus-way-of-being in the world and declare it boldly.
A VOICE IN THE W ILDERNESS - THE PROTESTANT PACIFIST M OVEM ENT
1
IN CHINA DURING THE TW ENTIETH CENTURY
Kevin Xiyi Yao
1. Introduction
The 1920s and 30s were a turbulent time in Chinese history. In the wake of he
collapse of the Qing Dynasty and founding of the Republic, Chinese society was plagued
by fighting between warlords. Completing the unification of the country in the late 1920s,
the nationalist regime (KMT) failed to reform the bankrupt political and economic systems,
and was exhausted by prolonged wars with communists and Japanese .
In the meantime, China’s external crisis was deepening. The western colonial
powers’ efforts to defend their own interests directly contributed to the growing tension with
the rising tide of nationalism. Consequently a series of confrontations erupted in the form
of strikes, bloody incidents or massacres. The most serious incident was the so-called “May-
thirtieth Massacre” in May of 1925. 2 Of all the colonial powers Japan stood out as the most
aggressive one in these years. In September of 1931 the Japanese army took over
Manchuria. Early the next year it provoked an armed conflict with the Chinese army in the
Shanghai area. On July 7, 1937 an all-out war finally broke out between Japan and China.
Under such a circumstance China’s struggle for national salvation entered a new
era. As some scholars point out, the dominant theme and driving force behind almost all the
social movements in modern China was nationalism. As the national crisis deepened, the
influence of nationalism became even more powerful, and the nationalist movement more
radical and violent. The appeal of nationalism was so dominant that all schools of thought
and political or non-political organizations, including religious organizations, had to face
the issue of their relationship with nationalism.
W ith its historical ties with the western colonial powers, Christianity was under
especially constant and heavy pressure in China. In the Anti-Christian Movement of the
1920s the church was accused of being a tool or running dog of western imperialism and
capitalism. In meeting the nationalists’ challenge and improving its own image, the church
had to demonstrate what roles Christianity could play in national salvation.
After the First W orld W ar pacifism emerged as an important part of the social
1
In China of that time “pacifism” was often referred as “Wei Ai Zhu Yi” (Agapism).
2
In May 30,1925 Bristish police in foreign settlement in Shanghai shot and kill 13 Chinese
demonstrators who supported the striking workers of a Japanese factory. The incident triggered nationwide anti-
imperialist campaigns.
Kevin Xiyi Yao, Ph.D. (Boston University) teaches Christian history at China Graduate
School of Theology, Hong Kong. He is the author of The Fundamentalist Movem ent
Am ong Protestant Missionaries in China, 1920-1937 (2003).

58 A Voice in the W ilderness
ethics of the Protestant Church in China. Not surprisingly, rising nationalism posed a serious
challenge to pacifism. As the appeal for violent revolution and resistance grew stronger,
should believers and church continue to hold on to the spirit of agape and related principle
of non-resistance, or simply to re-interpret them so that believers could justify their
decisions of joining in the armed struggle in some ways? These were the issues Christians
were constantly struggling with.
An unfortunate fact is that the pacifist tradition of the Protestant Church in China
has never received any significant attention and systematic treatment so far. By tracing its
history and major aspects of its thinking, this study is the initial step to recover the lost
heritage of Chinese Protestant pacifism.
2. The Rise of Protestant Pacifism in China, 1918 to 1925

It was after the First W orld W ar that a Protestant pacifist movement emerged in
China. The dire consequences of the war led to a widespread sense of crisis and despair in
the W est, and the influence of internationalism and pacifism was growing. The international
missionary movement also reflected this trend.3 It was not a coincidence that the voice of
pacifism began to be heard even within the Chinese church at that time. Several historical
factors directly contributed to the emergence of pacifism in China. First, this was the result
of reflections some missionaries and Chinese Christians made in light of the missionaries’
dependence on the armed protection of the western governments and western churches’ roles
in the First World W ar. The consensus was that these acts were not in accordance with the
Christian message of love and peace, and there was a need of re-discovering and re-
emphasizing the message; second, the nationwide patriotic movement in the wake of the war
involved many Christian students, and brought the church face to face with the nationalist
movement; third, the seemingly endless civil wars served to enhance the anti-war feeling in
Chinese society; fourth, as radical revolution was becoming a real alternative for many
people, Christians had to address the issue of a socialist revolution; fifth, this was also the
time when liberal theology and the social gospel movement spread within the Chinese
church. W ith its strong emphasis on the kingdom of peace and justice on earth, the social
gospel movement provided a powerful motivation as well as theoretical framework for
pacifism. It is no wonder that all the top pacifist voices in China were believers of the social
gospel movement.
Needless to say, social and religious conditions for the spread of pacifism in China
were favorable. The major achievement of the movement was the introduction of the
Fellowship of Reconciliation (FOR) to China.4 By nature the FOR was an international anti-
3
See Dana Robert, “The First Globalization: The Internationalization of the Protestant Missionary
Movement between the World Wars,” The International Bulletin of Missionary Research, Vol. 26, No.2, April
2002, 50-66.
4
The Chinese translation for FOR is “We Ai She” (The Society of Love Alone).
Kevin Xiyi Yao 59
war alliance. One of the founders and early leaders was H.T. Hodgkin, a British Quaker.
From 1905 to 1910 he served as a medical missionary in Sichuan Province. After returning
to UK, he worked for the Quaker mission society. As Europe headed to war, he publicly
opposed bearing arms, and advocated a peaceful and loving approach to the German people.
W hen war finally broke out in 1914, he refused to participate in the fighting in any way. At
the end of the same year more than 130 anti-war British Christians gathered in Cambridge,
and Hodgkin chaired the event. The meeting resolved to form the FOR. 5 In 1919 FOR held
it first international conference. By the early 1930s the FOR had a presence in more than
twenty countries in Europe, North America, and Asia.6
In the late 1920s Hodgkin returned to China. To promote the cause of FOR was
obviously on his agenda. W ith his support, the FOR in China was inaugurated in Beijing in
1922. Later its headquarters was located in Nanjing, and the tasks of researching,
propagating, communicating, and implementing were all handled by a national committee.7
In just three years the FOR started branches in Beijing, Shanghai, Nanjing, Tianjin, Anqing,
Chengdu, Xiamen, and Fuzhou. A bi-monthly— Wei-ai (Love Alone)— was published as the
FOR’s official organ in China. The FOR’s activities included studying the issues of Sino-
Western cultures and international, racial conflicts, discussing current political situation, and
investigating local people’s lives, etc.
In 1922 the Chinese FOR held a national conference in Shanghai, and adopted the
following confession (or statement of faith):
W e believe, the love of Jesus Christ is the only force that can
overcome all the evils in the world, and construct an ideal society for us.
Individuals are endowed with divine value by this love. Therefore, we
affirm:
1. Each one of us should live our life according to His love as
the standard, and is willing to pay any price for this love.
2. (W e should) endeavour for social progress with the spirit of
mutual assistance, and eliminate social rivalry and selfish behaviour with
the spirit of agape.
3. W e admire Jesus’ love so much that we refuse to participate
in any kind of war, aggressive or defensive, for war cannot provide a
lasting solution for human disputes, but threatens the value of the human
and defies the agape of Jesus Christ. W e believe that evil can be
overcome only by love, therefore, every country should aim to serve the
others under any circumstance. It is our obligation to advocate and
practice our beliefs.8
5
See Martin Ceadel, Pacifism in Britain, 1914-1945: The Defining of a Faith, Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1980,34-35
6
Wu Yao –zong, “FOR Members Wanted,”, Wei Ai, Vol. 11-12, 2.
7
Zheng Fan, “A Declaration of FOR in China,” Youth Progress, No. 122, 75.
8
Bao Guan-lin, “Editorial: What is FOR?” Quoted from Ruan Cheng-guo, “Christian Thought of Xu
Bao-qian,” A Master Thesis of Hong Kong Alliance Bible Seminary, 1998, 46.
Starting as a small organization, the FOR experienced steady growth in the early
years of its history. For instance, the FOR in Beijing held weekly public lectures and
seminars. Topics included some of the most crucial issues of national interest and crisis.
These event usually attracted more than one hundred attendants. 9 Through these activities
the FOR attempted to unify Christian pacifists and make their voice heard. From the
beginning western missionaries accounted for more of the membership of the FOR than
Chinese Christians. This is an indicator of the international dimension of the FOR, but it is
incorrect to draw the conclusion that the FOR movement was simply a western product
imported into China.
W ithout denying the indispensable roles of the international pacifist movement in
initiating the FOR in China, I would argue that pacifism in China had its native roots. It had
spread within the church in China even before the founding of the British FOR. The most
celebrated cases are perhaps W u Yao-zong (1893-1979) and Xu Bao-qian (1892-1944), the
two most prominent pacifists of the Chinese church. They both accepted pacifism in the late
1910s and early 1920s. W u was baptized in 1918. In his process of conversion, what struck
him most was Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount.” 10 From 1921 to 1931 pacifism was dominant
in his theological thinking. It is no surprise that, when Hodgkin came to China in 1921, he
asked W u for help in starting a FOR in China. W u officially joined the FOR in May of the
same year, and quickly rose to prominence. For years he played a leading role as the
member and chairman of the FOR national committee and the editor-in-chief of Wei-ai
magazine.
After being baptized in 1913, Xu Bao-qian remained a radical nationalist for
sometime with a particularly strong hostility toward the Japanese. Since 1921 he had
chances to study in US and got to know a number of Japanese students. Later he also visited
Japan. As a result he changed his views and embraced pacifism and internationalism.
Throughout his life he remained a staunch pacifist. He never became a official member of
the FOR, but extensively got involved in the work of the FOR.
As the pacifist movement gained a footing in Chinese soil in the early 1920s, more
and more voices in favor of pacifism could be heard in the church-associated press. By
taking a closer look at these voices, we can get a glimpse of the major traits and concerns
of Chinese pacifism in this period.
First, a main theme of pacifism in China is the ontological dimension of pacifism,
namely the agape inherent in God’s nature. It was the concept of God’s love, instead of
God’s justice that received most attention and emphasis. The image of God as a loving
9
Xu Bao-qian, “A Report about Nanjing Conference of the FOR, Truth and Life , Vol. 4, No. 1,
March, 1929, 9.
10
See Wu Yao-zong, “A Christian’s Confession—Christianity and Materialism,” Tien-feng, The
Christian Weekly, No. 102, December, 1947, 4; “Jesus I Know,” Truth and Life, Vol. 3, No.11, October 1928,
8-9.
Kevin Xiyi Yao 61
father for all of humankind was very appealing to pacifists.

Second, Jesus’ life was viewed as the model of pacifism and perfect embodiment
of unconditional love. The pacifist Christology was based mainly on “the Sermon on the
Mount” (Mt. 5-7). It was said that “all the thoughts of Jesus can be summed up in one word:
love… The core of his words and deeds is this: as long as there is war and resistance, there
is no room for humanity and righteousness. Once only love, forgiveness and tolerance
prevail, we are all brothers instead of enemies.” 11 For Chinese pacifists Jesus’ love is not
just a moral ideal or spirit, but it points to a concrete social relationship and social model.12
Believers had no other choice but to imitate Him and pursue His ideal.
Third, Jesus’ love is the universal love tearing down national, racial, social and all
the other walls in the world. This is the nature of Christian ecumenism and internationalism.
Shocked by the consequences of the First W orld W ar, the early pacifists in China felt
strongly about the needs to promote internationalism. How can Christians contribute to
world peace? Since Christian faith contains ideals and a spirit of internationalism, it can
encourage and educate people to strive for world peace. The Christian brotherhood is a
powerful antidote against nationalism and racial hatred. In addition, Christian unity or the
church union (ecumenical ) movement is the first step toward world peace and harmony.
Fourth, while nationalism gained momentum in China after the First W orld W ar,
how to respond to nationalism and patriotism was an increasingly urgent issue confronting
Chinese pacifists. Overall Chinese pacifists made clear distinctions between two different
types of nationalism. On the one hand, they firmly opposed the nationalism that placed one
nation’s interests and rights above the others and thus encouraged aggression. Regarding
rising nationalism in China of the 1920s, their consensus was that the only goal of many
secular nationalists was to “make the country rich and its army strong,” and this was a
“materialistic” and “militaristic” type of nationalism fully preoccupied with “the glory and
hegemony of the country.” 13 On the other hand, they were sympathetic with the nationalism
that defended a nation’s own rights over against aggressors. More specifically they had no
difficulty in identifying themselves with China’s national struggle against colonial powers,
and always urged Chinese Christians to fulfill their obligations as Chinese citizens. 14 In other
words, they saw a real possibility for a Christian version of nationalism that integrates a
Christian spirit of love with love of one’s own country.
Fifth, pacifism turned out to be a powerful weapon against ongoing civil wars
among warlords in China. W ith the growing public outrage at war lords, Chinese pacifists
affirmed that “all the killing battles are a crime, no matter whether they are offensive or
11
Shao Ming, “Jesus’s View on War,” 1923 Life , Vol.3,N.7-8, 2-3.
12
See Hong Wei-liang, “Jesus and State,” Life, Vol. 4, No. 8, April 1924, 5.
13
Chao Chang-lin, “Patriotism, Internationalism, and Christian Church,” Life, Vol. 3, No. 1, 1922,
1.
14
Peng Chang-lin, “Christians and Nationals,” Life, Vol. 4, No.8, April 1924, 3.
defensive… W e can see that human nature is against war so that our anti-war movement will
win sympathy of all people.” 15 Furthermore, they designed and proposed a number of
disarmament measures, hoping China’s future success of stopping civil war could serve as
a model for a war-torn world.
Sixth, Chinese pacifists began to notice the growing influence of socialism and
rising tide of social revolution. They very much agreed with socialists in opposing social
exploitation and oppression, calling for social equality. However, most of them insisted that
a “Christian approach is peaceful, … gradual, and evolutionary.” 16 In other words, they
always favored gradual social reform rather than radical revolution. For them, socialists’
endorsement of revolutionary violence was unacceptable.
Seventh, the early pacifists re-discovered the peace-loving nature or dimension of
the Chinese cultural tradition. They argued that for a thousand years Chinese culture had
highly valued peaceful means such as moral education, instead of force, as the best way of
governing and handling relationships with its neighbors. One author warned that the Chinese
people should not blindly and indiscriminately take over all the elements of a modern
western culture, especially its glorification of “supermanhood” and might do so at cost to
their own cultural virtues. He further called upon Chinese people “to cherish the Chinese
culture, and strive for the future world peace in cooperation with Christianity.” 17
In conclusion, the early 1920s was the period of the formation of the Protestant
pacifist movement in China. During this period a solid foundation was laid for further
development of the movement.
3. Organizational Decline and Theological Reflections, 1925 to 1937

After the “May-thirtieth Incident” the nationalist movement in China was
dramatically radicalized. As the mood of the public was increasingly favorable toward
military resistance to Japanese aggression, many church leaders and intellectuals began to
doubt the relevance of pacifism. Even some leading pacifist voices found it very difficult
to hold on to the classical pacifist emphasis on agape and started to stress the notion of
justice. Not surprisingly, in the late 1920s, the pacifist camp shrank considerably, and the
movement was at a low ebb.
The fate of the Fellowship of Reconciliation in China was again a barometer of the
pacifist movement. In these years the FOR was in serious decline or disarray. On the one
hand, most missionary members hesitated to speak out about the situation in China in order
to maintain neutrality in the midst of the nationalist revolution. On the other hand, many
15
Ren Fu, “The Awareness Chinese Nationals Should Have in Civil War,” Youth Progress, Vol.78,
December 1924, 3.
16
Zhang Shi-zhang,, “Christianity and Socialism in China,” Youth Progress, Vol.56, October 1922,
6.
17
Bai Hui, “The Cooperation between the Peace-Loving Chinese Culture and Christianity in Today’s
World,” Youth Progress, Vol. 73, May 1924, 31-32.
Kevin Xiyi Yao 63
Chinese members, including some key leaders, simply gave up the non-violent position and
dropped out.
The most celebrated case was W u Y ao-zong’s transfiguration from a pacifist to
a revolutionary. The Japanese take-over of M anchuria and the national uproar following had
tremendous impact on W u. During most of the 1930s W u still maintained his belief in non-
violence and in a peaceful solution to the current national crisis. But his confidence in
pacifism was constantly eroded by the deepening national crisis and the urgent appeals for
a military solution. Eventually in February of 1937 he resigned from the FOR. Having long
been a sympathizer of the socialist movement, he made himself famous again as an
outspoken Christian supporter of the communist revolution in the wake of the Second W orld
W ar. In the 1950s he led the Three-Self Movement of the Protestant Church in China.
The position changes of the leadership of the Chinese FOR only served to further
weaken the FOR organizationally. The number of Chinese members continued to decrease.
By 1929 the FOR in Nanjing had only one Chinese out of fifteen members. And the FOR
in Beijing no longer functioned. 18 In the same year the national conference of the FOR
resolved to revitalize itself by such measures as strengthening its national leadership and
internal communication. But these measures failed to stop the decline. By November of
1932 there were only 35 Chinese out of 200 members nationwide.19 In the spring of 1935
the Wei-ai magazine was discontinued. After the Sino-Japanese W ar broke out, the FOR
managed to exist for a few years and then vanished from the scene.
Interestingly, this was also the period of intensive and fruitful theological
reflection within the tiny Protestant pacifist community in China. In an increasingly hostile
environment the pacifists felt the need to do more soul-searching, to articulate their faith,
to defend their position over against criticism and accusations, to clear up others’
misunderstanding, and to present the pacifist explanations and solutions for urgent issues
facing the whole nation and society. At the grassroots level, the ordinary believers found
themselves no longer able to maintain a neutral position between non-violence and war, and
had to make a hard choice. Therefore, in the late 1920s and early 1930s, a hot debate about
Christian attitude toward war and peace took place within the church. The debate shows an
unprecedented depth and maturity of the pacifist thinking of Chinese Protestants. The
following are the major points or focus of Chinese pacifism in this period.
Agape as the Nature of God and Principle of Universe

In these years the pacifists argued more forcefully that the significance of agape
goes far beyond the arena of social ethics and is rooted in Christian ontology and
cosmology. In the late 1920s,W u Yao-zong developed his love-centered Christian ontology.
He declared Christ’s love is the transformation of human love and the dominant principle
18
Xu Bao-qian, “A Report about Nanjing Conference of the FOR,” 9.
19
Sehn De-rong, A Short Biography of Wu Yao-zong, Shanghai, 2000, 113.
of the universe. In his own words, “love is the most precious aspect of human experience
and the key element of human existence… It is love that sustains human life and all living
things. God is the subject of all things, and the essence of God is love.” 20 W u’s love-
centered concept of God prepares the way for a non-violent way of life.
Jesus and the Sermon on the M ount

The most controversial aspect of “the Sermon on the Mount” was his teaching of
loving enemies. In the 1920s and 30s these teachings were condemned as “the ethics of
slavery,” because they supposedly served to weaken Chinese people’s will to fight and lead
them willingly to become the slaves of foreign aggressors as well as capitalists. 21 Therefore,
Christian ethics was harmful to China’s salvation and reform. At that time this was a very
common and powerful criticism of Christian pacifism.
In response Chinese pacifists took on the task of defending the non-violence and
non-resistance of “the Sermon on the Mount.” They argued that, instead of urging his
followers to be submissive to evil, Jesus advocated a spirituality by which believers can
confront, resist and overcome evil. In the words of W u Yao-zong, “pacifism does not mean
passive non-resistance but active, vigorous love; passive non-resistance is the act of a
coward, but vigorous love is a brave endeavour.” 22 “Jesus taught us… to enhance our will
and ability to resist, and resort to the method of non-resistance in order to be more effective
and constructive. In contrast to resisting with force, resisting with love can touch the
enemies’ hearts and change their mentality. So the world can be on its way to peace and the
kingdom of love.” 23
Pacifism in Action
Chinese pacifists were convinced of the necessity and urgency of translating the
principle of love into concrete steps meeting the needs of the country. First of all, most
pacifists endorsed the common belief that the church could make a most valuable
contribution to the character-building of the Chinese nation or to the formation of a new,
modern citizenship that would make the Chinese nation strong again. But Protestant pacifists
added a pacifist tone or dimension to the new citizenship or national character. W u observed
that “rivalry,” “revenge,” and “dishonesty” are three major characteristics of many peoples’
lives. In his opinion, “the life of pacifism aims to replace rivalry with cooperation, revenge
with sympathy, and dishonesty with honesty.” 24
20
Wu Yao-zong, “Jesus I Know,”18.
21
See Chen Hua-zhao, “Turning the Other Cheek and People,” Truth and Light, Vol.4, No.220, July
1930, 33.
22
See Wu Yao-zong, “The Future of Christian Student Movement in China,” Truth and Light, Vol.4,
No.2, April 1929, 5.
23
Chen Hua-zhao, “Turning Other Cheek and People,” Truth and Light, Vol.4, No.220, July 1930, 33.
24
Wu, “The Future of Christian Student Movement in China,” 7.
Kevin Xiyi Yao 65
Second, Chinese pacifists advocated internationalism as the only possible

alternative for war. Based on the Christian spirit of international friendship, they worked
hard to improve relationships between China and other countries, to support international
organizations of cooperation, and to eliminate misunderstanding between different nations.
Third, as Japan was becoming the major threat to China’s independence, many
Chinese pacifists again and again reaffirmed their anti-war stance. But they soon realized
that they had to show their fellow Chinese what was the pacifist strategy to stop Japanese
aggression. In the wake of Japanese taking-over of M anchuria in 1931 they supported the
nationalist government’s pursuit of a peaceful solution by appealing to the League of
Nations and the international community for justice, instead of armed resistance. In the
meantime, two other peaceful methods of resistance were also endorsed by some pacifists.
The first one was economic boycotting. The second one was to establish and strengthen ties
with the anti-war elements of Japanese society, and to awaken the conscience of Japanese
people by more communication and truth-telling, even though some pacifists were
disappointed by the seemingly prevalent nationalist fervor among the Japanese population.
Response to Nationalism
After 1925 pacifists’ responses to the nationalist movement basically reflected the
same mode of thinking as the previous years. Pacifists distinguished between a rational or
“defensive” nationalism and an extreme and “militarized” one.25 The former is usually
associated with oppressed nations’ struggle for liberty and independence. It seeks to
maintain a nation’s cultural tradition, identity and dignity, and to live in harmony with other
nations. To this kind of nationalism Chinese pacifists lent their support. In their minds,
China’s cause of defending its own independence over against Japan no doubt fell under this
category of nationalism.
For many Chinese pacifists, another kind of nationalism was responsible for the
imperialist and colonial expansions in modern times. W hat characterizes this nationalism
is “ to be solely preoccupied with one’s own interests and ignore others’, and to take over
others’ lands and enslave their populations.” 26 The people’s love of their homeland is
manipulated to become an evil and destructive force. In the view of pacifists, this type of
nationalism is an outright violation of Christ’s teachings of the golden rule and brotherly
love, and should be categorically rejected.
According to some pacifist writers, both types of nationalism had their followers
in China, and were competing for the soul of the Chinese nation. They were keenly aware
of the possible influence the second type could exert on the future course of the country.
They launched an attack on this type of nationalism on the following three fronts: first, they
pointed out, from the perspectives of Christian social thought as well as human history, the
25
See Philipe de Vargas “What Is Nationalism?” Life, Vol.5, No.4, 1925, 7.
26
Di Mu “A Confession,” Life, Vol. 5, No.4, 1925, 15.
value of nationalism could not be absolutized. In comparison to nationalism, Christian social

thought certainly represents nobler aspirations of human civilization, and its concerns
transcend the traditions and interests of particular nations. Second, the spiritual driving
force of war is hatred and prejudice, and its consequences are destructive. And the vicious
circle of violence would never end. The vicious circle theory proved to be one of the most
powerful and most frequently used argument of anti-war cause in China. Third, just as the
early years, Chinese pacifists continued to argue that the Chinese nation historically always
relied on moral and cultural teachings and advantages in dealing with other peoples. Instead
of copying modern nationalism from the W est, they urged preserving the peaceful quality
of traditional Chinese culture.
In comparison to the early pacifism, Chinese pacifism of the 1920s and 1930s was
theoretically more sophisticated and practically more focused on particular urgent issues
such as the Sino-Japanese relationship. The pacifist theological achievements were so
significant that pacifism was considered one of the major theological schools of the period
by some Christian scholars. 27
4. Resurgence of the Peace M ovement, 1945-49

During the Sino-Japanese W ar the Protestant community in China was most
concerned with international justice and national self-defense. Under such a circumstance,
the influence of pacifism was understandably minimal. Sometimes pacifism even drew heavy
fire from the zealous secular and Christian nationalists, and was portrayed to be propagating
blind love without any sense of justice, principle and purpose, and thus harmful to China’s
current cause of self-salvation.28 For some believers who still held sympathy with pacifism,
the principles of pacifism were only relevant to one’s personal life, and had no place at all
in the arena of social and national life.
Not long after the Second W orld W ar ended in August of 1945, the fate of the
pacifist movement dramatically turned around. Having gone through so many wars and
turbulences, the Chinese people longed for a peaceful environment for rehabilitation and
reconstruction, and peace and democracy became a very strong, even dominant cause in the
political life of the country. During the three-year civil war between nationalists (KMT) and
communists there was a widespread anti-war movement mostly in the urban areas under the
nationalists’ control.
So the social environment was again quite favorable to the revitalization of the
pacifist movement. The small flock of Chinese pacifists found themselves able to speak out
again, and their ideas were also being appreciated again. In these years the mainstream of
the Protestant community in China was deeply involved in anti-civil war and anti-corruption
27
See Shen Ya-lun, “Chinese Church of Forty Years,” Nanjing Seminary Quarterly, Vol.26, No.1-2,
1950, 25.
28
See Xie Dao, “Love and Forgiveness,” Tian Feng, No.13, July 16, 1945, 10-11.
Kevin Xiyi Yao 67
movements in the larger society. Most of the time, the pacifist voice was a part of the
nationwide anti-war outcry. Till 1949 the Protestant pacifists had not attempted to re-
establish their own organization and separate themselves from the larger pro-peace
movement. However, the influence of pacifism was widespread, and its ethos and viewpoints
were commonly present in the anti-war arguments during these years.
It needs to be pointed out that not everyone in the anti-civil war camp was a
pacifist. In the late 1940s both advocates of non-violence and advocates of just war can be
found in the camp. Despite their fundamental differences, they had agreement on the evil
nature of the ongoing civil war and thus were able to form a kind of anti-war alliance.
On the other hand, the fundamental differences between them were quite difficult
to be completely ignored. W hen a few skirmishes took place, they did not come as a
surprise. The classical case was the debate between W u Yao-zong and M.H. Brown, a
Canadian missionary working for the Christian Literature Society based in Shanghai. W hen
the Second W orld W ar ended, W u had almost completed his transfiguration from a leading
pacifist to a leading Christian supporter of the socialist or communist revolution. In early
1948 he began to discuss “whether Jesus hated anyone?” on the “Tian-feng” (The Heavenly
Wind), one of the most prominent Protestant journals of political and social review in the
period. He pointed out that in Christian tradition, “love” is always presented as a positive
and constructive force but “hatred” as a negative and destructive force. In his opinion, “this
cannot be the true spirit of Jesus.” In fact, Jesus did hate his enemies, even though he always
29
believed everyone has potential to be saved. Echoing W u’s point, another author made
an even bolder statement: “Jesus’ love is conditional… The condition is to save the good but
to eliminate the bad. If Jesus’ love is unconditional, and he loved the evil and also taught
us to do so, what kind of logic is that?” 30
W u and his supporters’ words surprised and dismayed Brown. In her view, W u
seemed to forget Jesus’ command of loving enemies. She asked: “if Jesus hated his enemies,
what hope do we, his followers still have? ‘To love your enemies’ simply becomes a
nonsense.” After highlighting her own differences with W u in interpreting certain biblical
passages, she concluded that “Jesus never hated sinners of even the worst kind… Let us
remember Jesus only hated ‘sin’, but loved ‘sinners’ or ‘enemies’.” 31 The key issue at stake
is whether Jesus’ love is unconditional and universal. The debate shows it is precisely on
this issue that pacifists and their opponents went different ways.
29
Wu Yao-zong, “Did Jesus Have Hatred?” Tian Feng, Vol.5, No.5, February 1948, 14.
30
Xiang Shu, “Love and Hatred,” Tian Feng, Vol.5, No.9, 13.
31
M.H.Brown, “To the Editorial Office of Tian Feng,” Tian Feng, Vol.5, No.5, February 1948, 14.
M CC, INTERVENTION, AND “HUM ANITARIANISM ”
Peter Dula and Alain Epp W eaver
That nations individually and the international community generally have a

“responsibility to protect” (commonly abbreviated R2P) has, over the past several years,
become an increasingly influential doctrine of an ascendant school of international
relations.1 The “responsibility to protect” has multiple dimensions. Nations have a
responsibility to prevent conflict. Sometimes, in the cases of “failed states” that cannot
provide their citizens with safety, or of states that engage in genocidal practices against parts
of their populations, other nations have a “responsibility to react,” a responsibility that might
range from sanctions to unarmed intervention to military intervention. Finally, they have a
“responsibility to rebuild.” The R2P agenda has become increasingly influential at the
United Nations, and is becoming the framework of the first coherent Canadian foreign
policy since the end of the Cold W ar. Mennonite Central Committee’s representative in
Ottawa, for example, increasingly interacts with politicians and government officials for
whom R2P is taken as fundamental. As a result, the question of whether or not MCC, as an
organization representing pacifist churches, can ever support armed interventions emerging
out of the R2P doctrine, has become difficult to avoid.
Meanwhile, MCC workers involved in programming relief assistance grapple with
questions concerning “humanitarianism” and the military. Should MCC or other M ennonite
relief workers ever cooperate with military forces? How should MCC respond to the
increased blurring of boundaries between military and civilian functions (be they carried out
by humanitarian NGOs or private contractors)? Should Mennonite agencies ever support
calls for military intervention in cases where civilian populations are at risk? If not, are
Mennonites then guilty of what Ernie Regehr called “culpable nonviolence,” a nonviolence
whose desire for purity renders it complicit with atrocities that it will not act to stop? 2 These
questions have only become more pressing since versions of them were vigorously debated
among Mennonite theologians in the run-up to and following the US invasion of Somalia
in 1993.
As important as these questions about the relationship between humanitarians and
1
An earlier draft of this paper was originally presented at the meeting of the Mennonite Central
Committee (MCC) Peace Committee in October 2005 in Winnipeg addressing the topic of the “responsibility to
protect.” The core document of the R2P movement is The Responsibility to Protect: Report of the International
Commission on Intervention and State Sovereignty (Ottawa: IDRC, 2001).
2
Ernie Regher, “Culpable Nonviolence: The Moral Ambiguity of Pacifism,” Voices Across
Boundaries: A Multifaith Review of Current Affairs 1/1 (Summer 2003): 38-41.
Peter Dula is MCC Program Coordinator in Iraq and Alain Epp Weaver is MCC Co-
Representative for Palestine, Jordan, Iraq, living in Amman, Jordan. Both have graduate
degrees in theology and ethics.

Peter Dula & Alain Epp W eaver 69
the military are, however, we do not believe that they can be adequately addressed until
more fundamental questions are answered. Specifically, we must first ask how Mennonite
relief, development and peace-building work, such as the various projects carried out and
supported by MCC worldwide, relates to the discourse and practice of “humanitarianism,”
to what some have called the “humanitarian industry.” Therefore, when we were asked by
the MCC Peace Committee to provide a theological reflection for its October 2005 meeting
on the topic of “Protection: The Dilemma of Humanitarian Assistance,” we decided to
approach the questions around R2P and the linkage of humanitarianism and the military by
addressing the more basic question of MCC and the ambiguous beast called
“humanitarianism.” To assist us in our analysis, we drew on the work of two very different
thinkers: the great Swiss theologian Karl Barth, whose reflections on “philanthropy” put the
fundamental theological issues involved in this discussion in focus; and David Rieff,
journalist and writer for the New York Times Magazine, an incisive analyst and critic of the
increasing entanglements of humanitarianism with doctrines of intervention.
Humanitarianism as Sin
A recurring theme in the work of David Rieff is what we might call “abstraction”
or “anonymity.” Here are two representative examples:
In the aftermath of the W orld Trade Center attack… . there was the story
of individuals who had died in the Twin Towers and then there was
another story— a humanitarian story— of undifferentiated victims in
Afghanistan… . As described, these Afghans remained abstractions. 3
Or elsewhere, writing of Philip Johnston, former CARE US president who was
instrumental in the militarization of humanitarianism in Somalia:
His account of the media’s role in helping make the American public
aware of the crisis is largely devoid of historical context, geographical
specificity, and even any real personalization… . W hen Johnston speaks
approvingly of the media’s ability to turn a faraway crisis into a story of
human beings, it is hard not to feel that he means human beings in the
generic sense. After all, there are no real individuals in the story— only
victims, victimizers, and relief workers.(35)
The question of abstraction is, we argue, of utmost importance. Abstraction is
implicit in the very name of the industry Rieff is writing about— “humanitarian.” It is the
kind of abstraction explicit in the Enlightenment project that Rieff claims humanitarianism
inherits. It is also precisely the kind of abstraction that Karl Barth singled out for particular
attention in his account of sin, to which we now turn.
Both pride and sloth are the negative images of the humility and freedom of Jesus
Christ. The sections on pride and sloth make up the middle thirds of volumes IV/1 and 2
3
David Rieff, A Bed for the Night: Humanitarianism in Crisis (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2002),
6.
70 MCC, Intervention, and “Hum anitarianism ”
respectively. They are what Christ is not. Here Barth is, importantly, writing a
methodological principle into the very structure of his Church Dogmatics. One never starts
with “sin” or the “human” because one can have no idea what either is unless one first has
a Christology. Sin and humanity are derivative concepts, dependent upon Christology. The
Christological sections that begin in volume IV/1 of the Dogmatics center on the famous
chapter, “The W ay of the Son of God into the Far Country,” in which Jesus Christ’s priestly
office is described as his condescension, his self-emptying, his taking the form of a slave.
In volume IV/2 one finds the chapter, “The Royal Man,” Barth’s extended treatment of
Christ in his kingly office, his glorification to the right hand of the Father. Of course, for
Barth, and for any theologian worth the name, Christ’s condescension and his glory are one
and the same. IV/1 and IV/2 are two different angles on the same phenomenon. So too,
then, are pride and sloth.
Our concern here is with Barth’s account of sloth. Sloth is evil inaction, more-or-
less the opposite of promethean hubris. Pride is sin as heroism and it has a certain Luciferian
beauty. Sloth is not heroic. It is trivial and mediocre. The promethean needs humiliation; her
sin is refusing that humbling. The slothful person needs exaltation and his sin is refusing to
be exalted. W e are too lazy for such glory, which for Barth means we are too lazy to be
human. The slothful person is one who
regards the renewal of human nature declared in [Christ’s] existence as
quite unnecessary. He sees and feels, perhaps, the limitation and
imperfection of his present nature, but they do not touch him so deeply
that he is not finally satisfied with this nature and the way in which he
fulfils it. A serious need, a hunger or thirst for its renewal, is quite foreign
to him. He therefore sees no relevance in the man Jesus with his freedom
to be a new man. 4
Barth is not offering to replace the false satisfaction of characteristic inhumanity
with the true satisfaction of humanity. He is offering true and honest restlessness and
dissatisfaction of humanity, but one that doesn’t leave us “chafed by our own skins.” What
he calls, in III/2, “a genuine, pure and open unrest about our nature.” 5
Sloth thus consists in a refusal to live into the humanity embodied by Jesus. In the
course of the section on sloth, Barth identifies four refusals of the proper relationships
characteristic of true humanity, that is, characteristic of Jesus. The first is refusal of
relationship with God, which Barth labels “stupidity,” the third a refusal of relationship with
the created order, or “dissipation,” and the fourth a refusal of relationship with time, or
“human care.” W e are most interested in the second refusal, the refusal of relationship with
others, which Barth calls “inhumanity.” As usual, Barth begins with a Christological claim:
4
Church Dogmatics IV/2, trans. G. W. Bromiley (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1958) p. 407. Unless
otherwise noted, all subsequent quotations from Barth are from this volume and will be noted parenthetically in
the text.
5
Church Dogmatics III/2, p. 47.
The royal freedom of this one man consisted and consists in the fact that
He is wholly the Fellow-man of us His fellows; wholly the Neighbor of
us His neighbors; wholly the Brother of us His brothers… . In the
actualisation which it has found in Him humanity means to be bound and
committed to other men. In Him, therefore, man is turned not merely to
God but to other men… . In this exaltation above all He is also a direction
for all; a summons to participate, as thankful recipients of His grace, in
the humanity actualised in Him, to share this humanity with a concrete
orientation on the fellow-man, the neighbor, the brother. (432-3)
This is freedom, and the failure to live into it is bondage. It is also inhumanity.
There are times when Barth will say that we are “subhuman” or even “superhuman” (not a
compliment), but here Barth means to say that we are inhuman.
But what exactly does he mean by this claim? How does this work itself out? He
gives a brief overview that doesn’t last more than several lines. Sloth’s inhumanity begins
with sins of omission and indifference that lead to exploitation and “actual transgression”:
stealing and murder and finally war. But then he goes from this to an extended discussion
of, of all things, philanthropy. It is a bizarre moment. Lying, stealing, murder, and war get
rushed over in order to go after the philanthropists. But what is so bad about philanthropists
that they should not only be included in the ‘inhuman’ but made the focus of a discussion
of inhumanity?
First we need to get clear what Barth means by philanthropy. He does not just
mean the things that Andrew Carnegie did, or that the wives of rich politicians do. It is “the
focusing and concentrating of human will and action on the prosecution of [an]
anonymously human cause to a victorious and successful outcome.” (438) The key words
here are “anonymously human cause.” “In all this man is always understood in general. He
is humanity, or simply man, anonymous man.” (438) Now Barth says that something like
this must be a part of genuine humanity. “To be concretely with the other means always to
be occupied with some such cause in relation to him.” But then he pauses and repeats,
quizzically, “In relation to him? This is the critical point. For it is not at all self-evident that
when I am actually occupied with a cause of this kind I have concretely in mind the other,
the fellow-man, the neighbor, the brother; that I am committed to him rather than free in
relation to a purely abstract and anonymous man.” In fact, causes, according to Barth, are
usually invented in order to grant one this false freedom. The more urgent the cause, the
more easily one can escape the concrete, specific demands of the other. There is nothing like
a cause to enable one to think, speak and act “with a complete disregard for [the other’s]
questions, needs and expectations.”
So there are two evils at work in philanthropy. The most obvious is the refusal to
engage the other. The less obvious, but more basic reason for devoting so much attention
to philanthropy, is the deception involved. Philanthropy is so insidious because, unlike
stealing or murder, it so cleverly conceals itself. It is inhumanity concealed in its antithesis,
love itself. (Of course, stealing and murder can find more or less clever ways to conceal
themselves too. For a less clever example, take “the war on terror.”) W e seldom encounter
inhumanity in its “naked form.” Inhumanity will always try, and usually succeed, to clothe
itself as “the friend and servant of anonymous man, and therefore the more energetically
turning away from concrete, individual man, trampling over him as if he were a corpse,
which indeed he is, since the living fellow-man is regarded as non-existent, and is treated
accordingly.” (439)
W ho exactly are we talking about here? The example that springs most
immediately to mind is Mrs. Jellyby from Dickens’ Bleak House, but any number of Dickens
characters might work. Mrs. Jellyby is notable for two things: how cruel she is to Esther and
everyone else around her, and how terribly concerned she is to help the “poor, starving
Africans” even as she tramples over the poor of London. Or consider Abbie Hoffman’s
mother. Hoffman reports that his mother used to tell him to eat everything on his plate
because, “the poor children in China would be glad to have it.” Hoffman says he used to
respond, “Ma, name one.”
It should come as no surprise to the reader that we propose inserting
“humanitarianism” wherever Barth has “philanthropy.” Moreover, we expect this to be
uncontroversial, and perhaps most uncontroversial among aid workers, almost all of whom,
as M ichael Ignatieff points out, “have a bad conscience.” 6 Few good aid workers are not
haunted by the worry that humanitarianism is inhuman in precisely this way. One can hardly
read Rieff and not think with Barth: “Sometimes, rather perversely, one could almost wish
that there were not all these human causes the ceaseless promotion of which only seems to
make everything worse, postponing the peace on earth which they all seem to desire, and
merely intensifying an internecine warfare.” (440) 7
W hy would Barth suggest that philanthropic causes seem “to make everything
worse?” W e find a critical clue in the following passage from Rieff:
W hen one goes to a poor country where the humanitarian role is vital, the
colonial atmosphere is unmistakable. Humanitarians live in houses
previously occupied by cabinet ministers, or at least by the richest person
in the village. Their user-friendly democratic attitudes can do nothing to
disguise their power. W hether they are in sandals and old jeans or not, the
reality is the same. And the youth-quake clothing only makes them
masters in mufti. They are there to help; they are not there to share power
in any serious sense.8
6
The Warrior’s Honor: Ethnic War and the Modern Conscience (New York: Henry Holt, 1997), p.
5.
7
Barth goes on, however, to say, “Yet of what avail would it be to abandon the causes? It is not the
different causes themselves that are evil, nor the philanthropic zeal dedicated to them, but the inhuman element
in us which has such an uncanny power of mastering and using them on the pretext of serving humanity.” (Ibid.)
8
David Rieff, A Bed for the Night: Humanitarianism in Crisis, 275. He will say something similar
about the human rights movement in his later book, At the Point of a Gun, calling it “a caste of Platonic guardians
seeing to the best interests of the population at large, and accountable, in the final analysis, only to itself.”—At
“Helping” as opposed to sharing power: this, we would argue, is the crucial issue.
Moreover, it is the crucial issue regardless of whether or not humanitarians do or do not call
upon military force to help them achieve their ends.
It is not entirely clear that the question of power-sharing is a crucial issue for Rieff.
As long as there is “a bed for the night” Rieff is content. Moreover, power-sharing would
likely demand the sort of expansion of the humanitarian mandate that Rieff is trying to
narrow. But most importantly, Rieff’s texts are clearly the work of someone who is just as
much a “master in mufti.” Despite his remarks about abstraction with which we began, it is
extraordinary how few individuals are in his books aside from the Medécins sans Frontières
intellectuals he likes to interview. In this crucially important respect, one of Rieff’s central
objects of attack, Michael Ignatieff, has made a very telling criticism:
As an exercise in reporting, the book is curious. Although based on
Rieff's firsthand experience in the field, it contains little reportage and
hence lacks a sense of conditions on the ground, so that the
humanitarianism he is talking about remains strangely disembodied, a
phantom of the seminar room rather than a gritty reality. The book leaves
one asking: W hat do aid workers actually do?’9
Ignatieff should have been clearer than he was in insisting that the absence of
individual humanitarians at work is not the most disturbing absence in Rieff’s otherwise
perceptive analysis of the humanitarian industry. The most disturbing absence is the
absence of what the industry calls “beneficiaries.”
M CC and Humanitarianism
The claim that beneficiaries are “absent” in Rieff’s work— and in much of the
discourse of humanitarianism— needs some explanation. In one sense, aid recipients are of
course present: addressing their medical, food, water, and shelter needs, after all, is the
raison d’être for the industry. In another sense, however, they are absent, the individual
humanity of the recipients erased as individuals are turned into “beneficiaries,” into objects
to be counted and managed rather than individuals to be engaged. NGO’s like MCC— be
they engaged in relief, development, or peace-building work—inevitably struggle, if they
are honest and self-conscious about their work, with this tendency to erase the individuals
whom entire structures are supposed to be designed to serve, to turn them into objects of our
philanthropy, to turn away, as Barth would say, from “concrete, individual man” towards
“anonymous man.” The question of power— how we share it, how we are accountable to
partners, how our partners are accountable to “beneficiaries,” that is, the people with whom
they work— is fundamental. Raising the question of power raises the question, we believe,
of what type of organization MCC is, or should strive to be. Is MCC a “humanitarian”
the Point of a Gun: Democratic Dreams and Armed Intervention (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2005), 161.
9
“Mission Possible,” New York Review of Books (Dec. 19, 2002).
organization as described by Rieff? Should it be? Determining MCC’s relationship to the

discourse and practice of humanitarianism is, we think, a logically prior and more
fundamental question to the question of whether or not “humanitarians” should accept, seek
out or call for armed protection or armed intervention.
W hat then, is “humanitarianism?” By “humanitarian organizations,” Rieff means
“relief groups” whose “specific mandates vary, but their basic remit is to bring aid— whether
medical aid, food, shelter, sanitation, or psychosocial services— to suffering populations.”
Rieff’s discussion of humanitarianism focuses primarily on its W estern, northern
manifestations, on humanitarianism as a secular religion for Europe and North America.
Humanitarian organizations such as MSF, ACF, CARE, and IRC (in short, the alphabet soup
of the humanitarian world) captivated Rieff’s interest “because they came from W estern
Europe, Canada, and the United States and seemed, whether willingly or unwillingly, to
have become the rich world’s designated consciences in all these landscapes of disaster.” 10
These organizations are staffed, Rieff correctly observes, mostly by young people working
on short-term contracts. Rieff is simultaneously attracted to humanitarians, by their desire
to provide beds for the night for strangers, and repelled by them, by their naiveté and
dangerous utopianism.
How well does M CC fit the humanitarian model as described by Rieff? Should
MCC aspire to be a humanitarian organization? At one level, MCC is undeniably part of the
humanitarian phenomenon described by Rieff. W e are a North American organization, one
of whose mandates is to provide aid to people in need. Many of the things we do are also
done by other organizations, secular as well as Christian, and we increasingly speak the
same results-based management language as the rest of the industry. W e would suggest,
however, that at its best MCC has been more than a humanitarian organization so conceived.
Specifically, at its best MCC has been about dialogical partnership, about sharing ourselves,
our resources, and our power with others, about subordinating our particular visions in the
service of visions being called forth by the Spirit in various locations, about putting our
resources at the service of local communities mobilizing their own human and financial
resources, about decreasing so that others might increase. This has happened most
effectively when MCC and its workers have been present in particular contexts for the long-
term.
It is difficult-to-impossible to enter into an open, dialogical relationship,
individually or institutionally, when one is only in a setting for the length of a six-month
contract: it is difficult enough over three years, let alone ten. W ithout extended presence,
we won’t be as aware of emerging local initiatives to mobilize local resources to address
locally-identified problems. W ithout extended presence, we won’t be in as effective a
position to assess the degree to which our partners are accountable to the people whom they
10
Rieff, A Bed for the Night, 20-21.
are supposed to serve or to encourage such accountability. W ithout extended presence, in

short, it becomes that much easier to instrumentalize our partners, to reduce them to the
status of proposal-and-report writers, and to instrumentalize the persons with whom they
work, to reduce them to anonymous “beneficiaries,” to turn, in other words, from concrete
women and men towards anonymous “humanity.” To put the point somewhat provocatively,
at its best MCC has been a cross between a religious order and a professional humanitarian
organization, a hybrid of the missionary and NGO worlds. [W e should underscore at its
best: we should readily acknowledge that organizationally we routinely fall short of this
vision.] This hybrid nature is, we think, as it should be. As a Christian organization, we
should be looking to participate in the missio Dei, in the movement of God’s Spirit in the
world, a mission that can’t be captured exclusively by the discourse of humanitarianism.
Revisiting the 1990s Debates

Now how does all of this relate to the questions of protection and armed
humanitarian intervention? Let us begin to answer that question by revisiting the debate
waged in the pages of the Gospel Herald among J.R. Burkholder, Ted Koontz, J. Lawrence
Burkholder, and J. Denny W eaver about how MCC and Mennonites should relate to calls
for armed intervention in the case of Somalia. W e don’t want to re-hash the details of this
debate. W hat is striking about the three articles that appeared in the run-up to and after the
US invasion of Somalia, we would suggest, is the extent to which power is not discussed;
the central concern of these debates is whether W estern intervention should be armed or not,
not about the dangers of neo-colonialist dynamics that accompany any Western intervention,
whether by unarmed NGOs or U S soldiers. That says more about what happened to
humanitarianism in the 1990s than it does about any oversights on the part of W eaver,
Koontz and the Burkholders. W riting in 2005, after not just Somalia, but Bosnia, Rwanda,
Kosovo and Iraq, “humanitarianism” has simply come to be seen as a more complicated,
potentially problematic affair today than it was 12 years ago when these debates were taking
place; the question of power is harder to avoid today than it was then.
J.R. Burkholder and Ted Koontz talked about the need for “positive peacemaking,”
for “the traditional yet very necessary activities of feeding the hungry and providing
resources for social and spiritual development,” along with “more risky efforts to intervene
nonviolently in conflicts” along the model of Christian Peacemaker Teams.11 J. Denny
W eaver pushed this further, writing that “W e M ennonites need to confess frankly that we
have not yet thought very much about large scale, international non-violent action and
intervention,” and dreaming about the potential of sending in tens of thousands of unarmed
11
J. Richard Burkholder and Ted Koontz, “When Armed Force Is Used to Make Relief Work Possible,”
Gospel Herald (Jan. 12, 1993) 7.
volunteers who would bring in relief supplies.12 Lurking in the background here, of course,
is the Ron Sider speech to the Mennonite W orld Conference in Strasbourg in 1984, with its
vision of sending in thousands upon thousands of unarmed volunteers who would function
as an army of peace. The potentially negative power dynamics of W estern intervention,
period, are simply not thematized, only the positive possibilities are considered. If only we
could send tens of thousand of people to the Summer Peacebuilding Institute! If only we
could mobilize tens of thousands of people to stand in between two warring armies! David
Rieff’s acidic question, “is there really no hubris the American human rights movement is
not glad to be guilty of?” 13 could be re-phrased “is there really no hubris that the prophets
of ‘conflict transformation’ and ‘non-violent direct action’ are not glad to be guilty of?” [A
brief side note, to assuage our guilt for this last comment: the practice of the Christian
Peacemaker Teams (CPT)— at least in what we’ve seen in Hebron and Baghdad— is
typically better than its rhetoric; if CPT’s goal in Hebron, for example, has been to be a
violence-reduction force, a force to halt the tide of Palestinian dispossession, then it has
failed quite dramatically; the reality of CPT’s presence in Hebron, however, has been one
of CPTers living and mourning with Palestinians and being humbly open to encouraging
Palestinian and Israeli initiatives.]
J. Lawrence Burkholder, to his credit, recognized the potential neo-colonialist
dynamics involved in sending in foreign peace technocrats to offer workshops on conflict
resolution or in placing non-violent peace teams into conflict situations. “W hat right do we,
the uninitiated,” Burkholder asked, “have to traipse all over the world trying to put ourselves
between enemies without having lived and suffered with them?” “For self-appointed
Christian foreigners to inject themselves into other people’s fights as disinterested
intermediaries,” he argued, “can sometimes be as presumptuous as unrealistic.” Such
arrogance must be replaced by humility about our limitations. “The most humble and
effective approach to peacemaking,” Burkholder suggested, “is to consider it incidental to
more traditional relief and mission endeavors. The less premeditated, self-conscious, and
specialized the better.” W hat Burkholder, however, for his part failed to consider is the
potential arrogant presumption involved in “traditional relief and mission endeavors.” 14
Furthermore, why Burkholder did not see that it was at least an equal if not greater
unrealistic presumption for foreign militaries to inject themselves into the midst of “failed
states” like Somalia is not clear to us. Again, we should stress that our review of this debate
is not meant to suggest that the issue that Burkholder, Burkholder, Koontz, and W eaver
discussed, namely, whether or not Mennonites should ever support calls for armed
12
J. Denny Weaver, “We Must Continue to Reject Just War Thinking,” Gospel Herald (April 27,
1993): 6-8.
13
David Rieff, At the Point of a Gun, 166.
14
J. Lawrence Burkholder, “The Dark Side of Responsible Love,” Gospel Herald (March 16, 1993),
7.
intervention, is unimportant; rather, we simply want to underscore that this question should
not be as fundamental for MCC as the question of power-sharing.
Rieff on Humanitarianism
David Rieff is also centrally concerned about power, specifically, the ways in
which humanitarianism has wedded itself to human rights advocacy and, by extension, to
what Noam Chomsky calls the military humanism of the new American empire. Rieff’s
analysis in A Bed for the Night and At the Point of a Gun, we believe, provides reasons to
supplement our theological bias against supporting calls for armed humanitarian protection
or intervention.
First of all, Rieff’s argument would suggest that, to the extent support for armed
humanitarian intervention is predicated on the assumption that such intervention should
ideally be multilateral and rooted in an international legal order, it has been proven to be
naïve. There is no new, multi-lateral world order on the way, Rieff insists; the reality today
and for the foreseeable future will be US-centric. Any new world order, Rieff soberly
claims, will not be built on the Geneva and Hague Conventions. Placing one’s hope in
international law is to place one’s hope in a god that fails time and again. Regarding the
Geneva Conventions, Rieff writes that “every state paid lip service to the new norms, but
when those who had the power to kill thought it was time to start killing, these laws and
conventions saved not a single life.” 15 International law won’t stop states from killing, nor
will violations of international law necessarily lead the international community to intervene.
The US will conduct humanitarian interventions based on its perceived interests, not on the
basis of international conventions or on the basis of pressing human needs. To think
otherwise is to be culpably ignorant, to peddle false hopes. “The actual practice of
humanitarianism,” Rieff notes, “is not at the center of any new international order but at its
margin.” 16 Any hopes that the world is on a path of progress towards a future that would be
marked by the rule of international law have been shattered, for much of the world, Rieff
insists, remains “trapped in the same Hobbesian realities as they had always been.” 17
For the human rights and humanitarian movements, the past decade or so has thus
seen a shift from what Rieff calls “a W ilsonianism of moral suasion and law-based regimes
to a W ilsonianism dependent on the use of military force, above all, American military
force.” 18 W ith this shift, Rieff fears, has come an uncritical, or at least insufficiently critical,
embrace of American military might. Rieff laments that “there is no sustained critique of
power qua power” among those champions of humanitarian imperialism like Samantha
Power and M ichael Ignatieff. 19 Instead, there is what Rieff describes as a wildly utopian
15
Rieff, A Bed for the Night, 71-72.
16
Ibid., 87.
17
Rieff, At the Point of a Gun, 158.
18
Ibid., 162.
19
Ibid., 161.
championing of the redemptive powers of humanitarian intervention. Millennarian,

messianic, utopian: these are some of Rieff’s favorite adjectives to describe the naïve, and,
he believes, dangerous idealism of much humanitarian and human rights discourse.
Humanitarianism and the human rights movement “with which it has so understandably and
so mistakenly aligned itself,” Rieff warns, “has become dangerously messianic.” 20
Dangerous for three main reasons. First, because justifying war on humanitarian
grounds, Rieff fears, is a pernicious rhetorical move that serves to silence critics of military
intervention. “Those who want to go to war to stop human rights abuses should not use the
moral warrant of humanitarianism to justify their actions,” Rieff asserts. “Just wars do not
need any such pretext, nor should they have it available. The recourse to a moral imperative
like humanitarianism puts war beyond debate, when war should never be beyond debate. It
is in this sense, however inadvertently, a totalitarian construct.” 21 Second, the linking of
humanitarianism and military intervention would, if applied consistently, lead us in the
direction of perpetual war, not perpetual peace. “Any decision to be consistent” about
“humanitarian interventions,” Rieff warns, “would commit the world to war without
end— war waged in the name not of politics but of humanitarian need.” 22 One should add
to Rieff’s analysis here the observation that in an age in which the US government has
declared an open-ended “war on terror” whose stated goal is to eradicate evil itself, the
dangers are very real that proponents of the “war on terror” will simply co-opt the rhetoric
of humanitarian intervention and protection, using it to justify its military escapades of the
moment. Third, talk of “humanitarian intervention” and “humanitarian protection” is
dangerous insofar as it rhetorically serves as a disguised call for war. Rieff, one should
stress, is clearly not a pacifist, and believes that sometimes war is justified. W hat Rieff
opposes is disguising the horrors of war by calling it “humanitarian intervention” or “police
work.”
Back in 1996 or 1997, Ernie Regher proposed that “a meaningful distinction
between police activity and military activity is that police activity is defined and restricted
for the purpose of bringing the parties to a nonviolent forum for resolution, whereas military
activity is designed to resolve the thing through force.” 23 To this claim contrast the following
passage from Rieff: “At times, human rights activists seem to behave as if one can have
Nuremberg-style justice without a Nuremberg-style military occupation of the countries
where the war criminals live.” 24 Or even more bluntly, Rieff insists that “any new
international order worth supporting must not traffic in lies, however well-intended, and
pretend that war is police work, and police work war.” 25 Rieff excoriates Bernard Kouchner,
20
Rieff, A Bed for the Night, 339.
21
Ibid., 218.
22
Ibid., 97.
23
Ernie Regehr, cited in MCC Peace Office Newsletter (May-October 1997) 3.
24
Rieff, At the Point of a Gun, 167.
25
formerly of MSF, who sanitizes war as “brute force intervention.” “The image evoked,”
Rieff observes, “is one of a burly man breaking down a door in a burning building, rather
than of an action that even in the best of circumstances is inseparable from the slaughter of
innocents.” 26 If you believe that particular circumstances call on the state to prosecute a just
war, then call for war, Rieff is saying; don’t mask that call with talk of “brute force
intervention,” “police action,” or “humanitarian intervention.” “Is action on the part of an
international force closer to police work or military work” in settings where order has
broken down, the Peace Committee asked itself in 1997? 27 Rieff would forcefully answer
that it is closer to military work. Now, we have nothing but the greatest respect for those
who have proposed “just policing” as a bridge category between pacifism and just war, and
we don’t mean to suggest that a few juicy quotes from Rieff refutes the good work that has
been done on this question; that said, we would suggest that Rieff’s analysis should chasten
any unwarranted optimism we might have about the international community engaging in
police-style humanitarian interventions that will be materially different from war.28
Reference Points for M CC

All of the above discussion and analysis is supposed to be leading, according to the
brief given to us by the MCC Peace Office, to “theological reference points for MCC.” In
this regard, we fear that we aren’t going to be terribly original, because for the most part we
see little warrant for revisions to the “Principles for Relating to Peacekeepers” that emerged
from the Peace Committee meetings in 1996 and 1997 and that were published in the May-
October 1997 issue of the Peace Office Newsletter. Assuming that we individually and
corporately are still committed to non-violent discipleship, it would seem to us that not
much has changed over the past decade. W e should maintain our commitment to non-
violence based on our faith in Jesus’ triumph over the powers of sin and death and our
membership in the eschatologically-oriented community formed through that victory. W e
should not call for humanitarian military intervention. If anything, we should be more
skeptical, not less, about calls for humanitarian intervention than we were a decade ago. W e
should be humble about our limitations, recognizing that sometimes no non-violent solutions
to the world’s ills will reveal themselves, and in those instances silence might be our best
option. Much good reflection happened a decade ago at the Peace Committee meetings, and
if there is a point in revisiting these discussions it should be that of reinforcing our
conviction that we should not support or participate in calls for armed interventions.
W e could end here, but instead we’ll conclude by expanding briefly on the question
of humility. One thing that bothers Rieff about contemporary humanitarianism and much
26
27
From the summary of MCC Peace Committee meetings included in the MCC Peace Office
Newsletter (May-October 1997: 10-12.
28
See, for example, Gerald Schlabach, Just Policing (Kitchener/Waterloo, Ont.: Pandora Press, 2004).
human rights discourse is their messianism, their utopianism. “Humanitarianism has come
to see itself as a secular religion (much as the United Nations and the human rights
movement do),” according to Rieff, a religion preaching a gospel that will not save.29
Humanitarianism has come to promise more than a bed for the night, but in the end that is
all it can deliver, and it should be content with that. “As utopias go,” Rieff notes,
“humanitarianism . . . is a weak prescription for the world’s salvation.” 30
As Christians, of course, we have a messianic faith, and some of our Anabaptists
forerunners were routinely disparaged for their real or perceived millenarianism and
utopianism. On the one hand, we have to make what many will view as a fairly arrogant
claim, namely, that Jesus Christ is the Lord of history, if we are to be faithful to the Gospel.
It is our confidence in this message that empowers us to renounce participation with lethal
force and to seek out non-violent avenues for peace-building and reconciliation. On the
other hand, however, our confidence in Jesus’ victory should not translate into arrogant
claims about the church or about the efficacy of particular techniques. Just as we should be
skeptical about grand claims for the benefits of armed humanitarian intervention, so should
we be skeptical of any exaggerated confidence that the world will become a more peaceful
place if only we equip a sufficient number of people with master’s degrees in conflict
transformation or if only we can mobilize a sufficient number of people to stand between
those at war.
For Rieff, such skepticism leads him to argue that humanitarians should stay away
from advocacy, that they should focus on providing a bed for the night rather than improving
the world. “Must humanitarians,” he writes, “whether out of despair, conformity to
intellectual and moral fashion, or groundless hope— hope for hope’s sake— insist on trying
to be the Archimedean lever for perpetual peace, or even, in Oxfam’s more modest
formulation, a fairer world?” 31 For our part, we don’t think that Rieff’s otherwise trenchant
analysis of humanitarianism presents convincing reasons why MCC should refrain from all
forms of advocacy. In part because we are not sure that he correctly characterizes advocacy.
Advocacy, whether by MCC or Human Rights W atch, need have little to do with “perpetual
peace” or even “a fairer world.” Advocacy, or better, witness, is an end in itself. There are
times when one speaks only because one cannot remain silent, not because of any hope that
one’s words will bring about change. W hen we live, individually and institutionally, with
people crushed by the weight of discriminatory systems, when we make ourselves vulnerable
to them, when we are ready to share power with them, to engage them as concrete men and
women rather than objectify them into “anonymous humanity,” then it will naturally flow
that we will tell their stories and the way their stories crisscross with the stories of MCCers
to whomever will listen, from congregations to newspaper readers to congresspersons. Such
29
30
Ibid., 97.
31
advocacy emerges out of relationships forged over years, even decades, with individuals,
organizations, and communities who are mobilizing their own human and financial resources
for non-violent struggles, for the difficult work of reconciliation. Our hope as we engage in
such advocacy will not, however, come from a naively utopian belief in the power of
international law or in confidence in our abilities to craft effective lobbying campaigns;
rather, our hope will come from the witness of our partners who, through their non-violent
work for justice and reconciliation, live as embodied signs of God’s Reign. This hope will
be a seemingly fragile, not a triumphalist hope, a hope in keeping with the fragility of the
incarnation, a hope, then, in which we might have a humble confidence.
M ISSION IN GLOBAL PERSPECTIVE
W ilbert R. Shenk
Introduction
Globalization is one of the defining characteristics of our world today and elicits
strong reactions— both positive and negative. It is taken for granted that this is a
development unique to the modern world and largely the result of the development of
modern transportation and communication systems. Globalization is assumed to be a
secular development.
I wish to challenge this view on several grounds. On biblical and theological
grounds I will argue that central to the biblical narrative is a comprehensive or global
perspective that calls the people of God to maintain a bi-focal view of the world by holding
in tension the particular and the global. The biblical narrative models this stance. From a
historical point of view the popular facile interpretation of globalization as uniquely western
and modern overlooks the multiple forms and stages in the development of globalization
over a long period.
1. Globalization and the Biblical Narrative

God: Creator and Redeemer. The Bible opens with an account of God as creator of all that
we call “the world.” The Genesis 1 account of creation culminates with God making
“humankind in our image, according to our likeness” (1:26b). The Creator’s design has an
unmistakable unity of purpose. Indeed, it is this providential purpose that is temporarily
thwarted by human action in rejecting the Creator’s instructions (Gen. 3). From this point
forward the scriptural narrative is dominated by God’s initiative to redeem creation and
restore it to its original purpose. The missio Dei is the essential dynamic and focus. The
narrative moves dialectically with God acting and humankind reacting. At times people
respond positively to God’s initiative; frequently, men and women rebel and reject God’s
interventions on their behalf. The line of development does not unfold smoothly.
At Babel, in a rush of hubris, the people “said to one another, ‘Come, let us build
ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for
ourselves; otherwise we shall be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth” (Gen.
11:4). Geographical scattering and linguistic diversity are presented as ways of overcoming
the centralization and concentration of economic, political and cultural power. It wasn’t that
Wilbert Shenk, Paul E. Pierson Professor of Mission History and Contemporary

Christianity at Fuller Theological Seminary School of Intercultural Studies, retired in
summer 2005 and was honored with a Festschrift at a conference on Mission in Anabaptist
and Global Perspective, Elkhart IN, Nov. 11-12, 2005. This is the first of his two keynote
lectures.

W ilbert R. Shenk 83
human unity was not a good thing but that an empire built on willfulness and pride was
idolatrous.
Jesus the Messiah: The Great Commission. The redemptive mission of Jesus the Messiah,
servant of Yahweh and suffering servant (Isa. 421-4; 49:1-9; 50:4-11; 52:13-53:12) foretold
by the prophets is to restore the unity and harmony (shalom) that is at the heart of God’s
creation. Jesus sets out to do this in a way that is entirely consistent with the messianic
tradition portrayed by the Old Testament prophets. The new initiative of Jesus the Messiah
is addressed to all humankind. Following the resurrection Jesus gives the mandate to his
disciples to continue his ministry, taking it to all peoples everywhere. Thus, the Great
Commission marks the next step in the developing biblical narrative.
The Great Commission extends the ministry and witness of Jesus. His style of
ministry and example are normative for his disciples. He began his earthly ministry
proclaiming that the reign or kingdom of God had begun and by demonstrating what it
meant to live under God’s rule by rejecting all power except love. He confronted evil but
suffered rather than retaliate with violence. The Great Commission can be carried out
faithfully only by rejecting all attempts to ally the kingdom of God with a particular nation,
race, class or economic-political power. This is the original globalization. It offers a clear
contrast with all other attempts at globalization, which all too often is but another name for
empire building.
To summarize: the globalization prefigured in Jesus the Messiah has as its goal
nothing less than the redemption of creation. To accomplish this goal the gospel is to be
announced to all people for God wills to redeem the world through the redemptive action
of the Son. From the example of Jesus the Messiah (Phil. 2:6-11) we know that God’s
redemptive action is based on God’s gracious love and is, therefore, uncoerced. Rather,
God extends an urgent and compassionate invitation to all humankind to be reconciled to
Godself and to one another (2 Cor. 5:11-21).
Witness of the Early Church. According to Acts the original apostles immediately began
carrying out their Lord’s mandate. Luke’s account in Acts shows with great clarity the way
the gospel raised a range of new questions about tradition, religious practices, and attitudes
toward the Other. The gospel compelled the apostles to break with familiar religio-social
traditions that had served over the generations to separate and marginalize people. But the
issue is not culture per se. As Pentecost demonstrates, the Holy Spirit legitimates all
cultures and cultural-linguistic diversity. Religio-cultural diversity is juxtaposed with unity.
Luke emphasizes that there was a strong sense of unity among these new believers that
relativized ethnic and linguistic differences. Some of the disciples, including Peter, who
were still tied closely to their Jewish roots found this new kind of unity difficult to accept
for they had been indoctrinated to believe that unity requires uniformity. Paul steps forward
and leads the church in a theological and ecclesiological revolution. A crucial barrier was
crossed so that the gospel could be taken to the non-Jewish world. During the first three
84 Mission in Global Perspective
centuries the church continued to fulfill this mandate of witness to diverse peoples without
dependence on social, economic, political or military power.
2. Globalization and Empire

Empire. Historically, empires have been the primary means of pursuing globalizing intent.1
The Christian movement arose in the early phase of the Roman empire and has never been
far removed from imperial reality. Following the assassination of Julius Caesar in 27 B.C.
Caesar Augustus succeeded him as emperor of the Roman empire. This empire reached its
high point after 150 years and was dealt a decisive blow in 410 C.E. when the Goths sacked
Rome; but it finally collapsed in 517 C.E.
Successive emperors kept expanding the empire by adding territory so that at the
death of Trajan in 117 C.E. it included the entire Mediterranean world, Europe as far as
northern Britain, the Black Sea, and Mesopotamia. Hadrian, who succeeded to the throne
in 117 C.E., recognized the mounting military and economic strains on the empire to
maintain control and ended the policy of territorial expansion
Throughout history empires have been established as an expression personal
ambition or quest for enhanced national power and wealth. This was achieved by using
military force to overrun another people and seize their territory. A subjugated people are
inevitably resistant and restive. Empires are unstable and can be maintained only by a
permanent military presence and constant surveillance. Occupation forces are an onerous
burden and stir tension and resentment on the part of the subject people.
Constantinian Shift. A decisive change in Christian identity took place in the fourth century.
Emperor Constantine I issued the Edict of Toleration in 313 C.E. that recognized
Christianity as a legitimate religion. Later in the century Emperor Theodosius I made
Christianity the official state religion. The Edict redefined the status of Christianity: people
no longer needed to fear converting to Christianity; the emperor’s smile caused others to
treat the church with respect, and the emperor went out of his way to bestow special favors
on the church. 2 Indeed, after 375 C.E. conversion was compelled, resulting in many people
being added to the official church register who were hostile to Christianity. They brought
into the church their pre-Christian customs and practices. This had enormous influence on
the way the church was understood.
Empires require a religion or ideology to lend legitimacy and enhance their power.
1
Empires do not necessarily have as their primary goal total world domination; but the logic of empire
has consistently led to expansion by conquest of territory and subjugation of other peoples. What finally curbs
this expansion is that the means of building an empire are finite. Thomas L. Friedman, The World Is Flat (New
York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2005, 9-11) observes that up to 1800 it was nation-states that created empires
of globalizing influence. During the next two centuries major corporations were the driving force in globalization.
Since 2000 new technology has empowered the individual to play the leading role.
2
Ramsay MacMullin, “Christianity Shaped Through Its Mission,” in Alan Kreider, ed., The Origins
of Christendom in the West (Edinburgh: T. and T. Clark, 2001), 97-117.
The evidence suggests that Constantine I evidently was convinced that Christianity was
more efficacious than other religions and set in motion actions that would lead to
Christianity becoming the state religion of the Roman Empire. To fulfill its role the church
had to embody the spirit of empire. The church’s pre-Constantinian ethos was replaced by
one of domination and control sustained in cooperation with the state. The journey from the
Galilean hinterland to official religion of the Roman Empire had drastic consequences. The
church no longer practiced the politics of Jesus but that of the empire. This can be shown
in two ways: (1) means of gaining adherents, and (2) attitude toward other religions.
(1) Evangelization. 3 The Constantinian shift led to a new state policy with regard
to evangelization. The state had a large stake in insuring that all citizens be church
members. Refusal to convert to Christianity was an act of civil disobedience. All people
living within the Empire must become Christian.4 It took several centuries to implement this
policy fully but it was pursued with diligence. The rise of Islam in 622 C.E. and its rapid
growth presented a major challenge. Both Christendom and Islamdom considered territorial
conquest to be integral to the spread of the faith. Both depended on military power to carry
out “evangelization.”
From the viewpoint of Christendom, it finally achieved its goal of complete
mastery of Europe in 1492 with the expulsion of the Jews and Muslims from Spain. This
year also marked the beginning of European exploration and conquest of territories in other
continents. This empire-building project was conceived as an extension of Christendom and
to be carried out under Papal authority. The Christian mission to non-W estern lands was
thus co-opted by European empires to fulfill their imperial purposes.
(2) From religious variety to religious monopoly. At the time the Christian
movement emerged, the Roman Empire was rife with religions and the fact of religious
plurality was taken for granted. This surely must have something to do with the fact that the
New Testament does not attack other faiths. It challenges idolatry and the worship of false
gods and asserts the Lordship of Jesus the Messiah. The early church fathers did discuss the
relationship between Christianity and other faiths as a theological concern.
One consequence of the Constantinian shift was to create a society in which the
kind of religious diversity that had been commonplace in the first several centuries after
Christ was no longer acceptable. Of course, the sweep was not accomplished quickly and
it was never complete but a decisive change took place. Theologians increasingly focused
their attention on issues internal to the life of the church. Discussion of the relationship of
Christians to people of other faiths largely disappears. Although vestiges of the pre-
3
See Kenneth Scott Lataourette, History of the Expansion of Christianity: The Thousand Years of
Uncertainty, A.D. 500 to A.D. 1500 (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1938), 308-42, for a comprehensive account
of “The Counter-Advance Against Islam.”
4
Jews were the exception; yet they typically were forced to live in ghettoes and suffered social and civil
disabilities.
Christian religions of tribal Europe persisted right into the twentieth century, officially only
one religion was recognized and Christendom became a culture where religious difference
was not tolerated.
It is important to observe the differences that developed early between the Eastern
and W estern Churches with regard to their relationship to government. The collapse of the
Roman Empire created a power vacuum and the W estern Church played a substantial role
in stabilizing society. In the W est the popes frequently saw themselves as rivals, and
certainly equals, of temporal rulers. The Eastern Church never achieved the same power
vis-à-vis governments; it had to be more deferential toward government. The Byzantine
Empire took on the challenge of Islam and sought to curb Islam’s influence. W hereas the
W estern Church regarded force as the main means of winning adherents, and intolerance of
non-Christians increased over time, the east took a less bellicose attitude and sought to
establish a modus vivendi. This is reflected in the contrasting responses to Islam. In the
Byzantine Empire Christians and Muslims engaged in debate and Christians developed an
apologetic literature. Christians sought to answer the claims of Islam by asserting their
counterclaims for the authenticity of Jesus, attested by the Old Testament prophetic tradition
and the miracles he performed. The M uslims sought to answer these Christian claims with
the charge that the Christian scriptures had been fabricated to suit a propaganda scheme. 5
But these exchanges did not lead to armed conflict.
The Crusades, launched in response to a sermon preached by Pope Urban II in
1095, were a W estern Church initiative. The pope called for a crusade to regain control of
the holy places in Palestine but this purpose was quickly eclipsed when the crusades became
a series of Christian military campaigns against M uslims with the goal of repelling the
Muslim threat. By the thirteenth century sober-minded theologians began to argue that the
Crusades were proving to be ineffective in dealing with the Muslims. The most influential
theologian of this period, Thomas Aquinas, “maintained that the infidel has rights, as the
heretic does not, that war can be waged against him only to prevent him from hindering the
faith or persecuting Christians” but an unbeliever cannot be forced to believe.6
During the period 800-1150 C.E. only Muslim scholars carried out inter-religious
studies. Tabar § (838-923) prepared a study of the Persian religion while Mas’ud § (d. 956)
wrote on Judaism, Christianity and the religions of India. Alber ãn § (973-c. 1050) wrote a
book about Indian and Persian religions. Shahrast~n § (d. 1153) pioneered by writing the
first-ever history of religion in world literature. Religious Parties and Schools of
Philosophy is a systematic treatment of the religions of the then known world, including
China.7
Two initiatives by Christians demonstrate how meager was the Christian interest
5
Latourette, 319.
6
Ibid.
7
Eric J. Sharpe, Comparative Religion: A History (LaSalle, Il.: Open Court, 1986, 2nd . ed.), 11.
in other religions. Roger Bacon, a Franciscan, developed a typology of religions in the

thirteenth century, but his work was only published 467 years later. Peter the Venerable
sponsored a translation of the Qur’an in 1411 for the purpose of encouraging a positive view
of Islam. But these exceptions proved the rule. From the Christian side Islam was regarded
as a serious threat. The period from the eleventh to the fourteenth centuries was dominated
by the Crusades and few Christians were in a mood to study other religions. W hen
Europeans began their voyages of exploration and trade after 1492, the dominant attitude
toward other people of other faiths was generally negative.
3. Globalization and the M odern W orld

July 20-22, 2001 the leaders of the G-7, or Group of Seven major industrial
nations, met in Genoa, Italy. This select group, more recently joined by Russia, has been
meeting periodically to discuss the world economy. The economies of the G-7 account for
two-thirds of the world’s economic output and wealth. In 1800 two countries accounted
for two-thirds of the world’s economic output and wealth: China and India. The question
that arises: How did this massive change occur? For the past two centuries the ready
answer has been: “The rise of the West.” 8
Revising Historiography. The historiography of the modern world is in ferment.
Historians have long assumed European exceptionalism and wrote their histories of the
modern world accordingly. Critics like Edward Said attacked the fact of Eurocentric bias
but this did not immediately result in a reorientation. Now a new generation of scholarship
is emerging that is reconceptualizing the historiography of the past fifteen hundred years.
Kenneth Pomeranz has pointed out that the careful empirical studies on which this
reinterpretation is based simply did not exist prior to 1975 and much of this new scholarship
has become available even more recently.9
The essential argument is that the world has always had a certain level of inter-
cultural relationships so that cultural borrowing, exchange of goods, and imitation has
marked the human experience throughout history. Modern scholars have been preoccupied
with the singular role of the W est— especially the significance of modernity and
industrialization— and have not bothered to acknowledge and examine this far more
complex history.
Historical development is mediated in a variety of ways. This can be summarized
in terms of three things: conjunctures, contingencies, and accidents. Historical
conjunctures occur when a particular development in one part of the world makes an
unexpected impact in another. T ake the example of China. For reasons of its own in the
8
Robert B. Marks, The Origins of the Modern World: A Global and Ecological Narrative (Lanham,
Maryland: Rowan and Littlefield, 2002), 1.
9
Kenneth Pomeranz, The Great Divergence: China, Europe, and the Making of the Modern Economy
(Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), 27.
fifteenth century China decided to switch to silver as the basis of its monetary system. But
as new sources of silver dwindled China had to look to other countries to purchase
additional quantities to meet its needs. By the seventeenth century the profitability of silver
mining in the Americas was declining but the Chinese demand for silver drove the price up
enough to keep the mines operating. This conjuncture enabled European colonials to keep
their mines in operation. 10
Second, taking account of historical contingencies forces us to view the world more
broadly and acknowledge the forces at work in it.11 Around 1000 C.E. China was the
dominant economic power in the world. Its population and economy were growing. China’s
influence was felt across the whole of Eurasia through the export of new food crops and
manufactured goods. Between 1400 and 1800 China again played the role of the main
supplier of manufactured goods to the rest of the world. The assumption that it was
inevitable that Europe would emerge as the dominant force in the world cannot be sustained
in the light of contingent influences that were at work.
The third influence on historical development is accidents.12 For example, the
“Little Ice Age” that devastated Europe and other parts of the world in the seventeenth
century could not have been predicted. It was a serious blow to the economies of Europe
and a drag on progress for some years. The fact that Great Britain had great quantities of
coal, in contrast to the Netherlands and China, gave the British an important advantage in
launching industrialization.
Trade in the Pre-Modern World. In the thirteenth century the “world” economy
was comprised of eight interlinking trading zones (see attached map). 13 These eight zones
were further grouped into three regional sub-systems or spheres. This system linked most
of Eurasia and the north of Africa. Three trade routes, each of which terminated in the
eastern Mediterranean, linked the sub-systems. The northern trade route went north to the
Black Sea, thence via the Mongol Empire to China. The central trade route went via
Bagdad and the Persian Gulf to the Indian Ocean and then by ship to India and Southeast
Asia. The southern trade route ran south to Cairo, overland to the Red Sea and the Indian
Ocean.
Robert Marks points out that most historians are ignorant that such a trading system
existed for they have assumed that such a far-flung system was not possible prior to the
emergence of the modern nation-state.14 Indeed, it is remarkable that this trading system
functioned without any central control or dominant power guiding it. It was a system
attuned to a polycentric world and was consisted of a series of regional systems, each with
10
Ibid, 32.
11
Marks, 10.
12
Ibid, 12.
13
Reproduced in Marks, 34.
14
Ibid, 33-36.
its core that held it together and a periphery that supplied the needed raw materials. The
world remained polycentric until the eighteenth century when European colonialism began
to take shape, thus paving the way for the modern global system.
It might be quibbled that this thirteenth century world system was not a truly
comprehensive global system. After all, the Americas and Australasia were not included.
Yet it was the largest system then known.
The Ming Dynasty (1368-1644). W hen the founder of the Ming Dynasty died in
1398, he arranged that the son of his deceased eldest son would succeed him. 15 But the
emperor’s ambitious younger son overthrew his nephew and became emperor in 1402.
W hereas the founding emperor and the grandson had a vision of China that focused inward
with special emphasis on the land and its cultivation, the Prince of Yan as emperor saw the
need to turn China outward. He relocated the capital to Beijing, strengthened defenses and
established Chinese hegemony in the region. He attempted to annex northern Vietnam. But
his boldest move was to build the largest fleet of ships that the world would see until 1900.
The building of this new fleet of ships had major impact on the national economy. Between
1404 and 1407 1,681 ships were built. “So much wood was required to construct the fleet
that much of the coast was deforested, and timbers had to be floated a thousand miles down
the Yangzi River to the shipyards.” 16
Admiral Zheng He was made commander of this great armada. The fall of 1405
300 ships with a crew of 27,000 men sailed from Shanghai. The fleet traveled south to
Indonesia and then westward into the Indian Ocean. Their destination was Calicut, a major
trading center on the southwest coast of India. Among the emperor’s goals were (1) to
encourage the Chinese to turn outward to the rest of the world and demonstrate that China
was the preeminent civilization, and (2) to promote international trade. The emperor wanted
to generate new revenues for the state and bolster the national economy.
Between 1405 and 1433 the Chinese carried out seven expeditions of two years
each. They sailed as far west as Mozambique, into the Persian Gulf, and southeast to the
Spice Islands (Indonesia). On the fourth voyage the Chinese began establishing diplomatic
relations with M uslim countries and these countries sent their ambassadors, on the Chinese
ships, to China. These expeditions ended in 1435 but Chinese merchants continued to trade
with India and other countries accessible by sea.
As a part of his overhaul of China’s government and economy, the emperor
reorganized the monetary system. He abandoned the old system based on paper, which had
gotten out of control due to inflation, and ultimately introduced silver as the basis of the
monetary system. This resulted in the reopening of China’s silver mines. W hen the
domestic supply of silver proved insufficient, China began importing silver from abroad.
Eurocentricism in Historical Perspective. The preceding fragmentary paragraphs give
15
This section depends on Marks, chapter 2.
16
Ibid, 47.
glimpses of developments in pre-modern history that challenge us to revise our assumptions

about the world prior to the so-called “rise of the W est.” W e do well to heed the words of
Eric R. W olf, in his conclusion to Europe and the People Without History: “This book has
asked what difference it would make to our understanding if we looked at the world as a
whole, a totality, a system, instead of as a sum of self-contained societies and cultures; if we
understood better how this totality developed over time; if we took seriously the admonition
to think of human aggregates as ‘inextricably involved with other aggregates, near and far,
in weblike, netlike connections.’” 17
No one will deny that something important happened when in 1492 Christopher
Columbus and in 1497 Vasco da Gama undertook their expeditions of exploration of other
continents. But the results of these new initiatives were not evident for quite some time.
Until around 1800 the most developed nations of the world— including China, India, Japan,
and western Europe— were more or less on par with each other.18 This parity changed rather
rapidly when the British discovered coal and the industrial revolution took off. The
industrialized nations have dominated the world economy since 1800.
The myth of Western superiority was widely accepted by the eighteenth century.
The foremost critics of capitalism, Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, did not question that the
expansion of Europe to other parts of the world would be the means of helping them share
in “progress.” In the Communist Manifesto of 1848, Marx and Engels asserted:
The [European] bourgeoisie, by the rapid improvement of all instruments
of production, by the immensely facilitated means of communication,
draws all, even the most backward, nations into civilizations. The cheap
prices of its commodities are the heavy artillery with which it batters
down all Chinese walls, with which it forces the underdeveloped nations’
intensely obstinate hatred of foreigners to capitulate. It compels all
nations, on pain of extinction, to adopt the bourgeois mode of production;
it compels them to introduce what it calls civilization into their midst, i.e.,
to become bourgeois themselves. In one word, it creates a world in its
own image.19
A combination of events in the twentieth century—world wars, ideological conflict,
the cresting of modernity and emergence of postmodernity— has dampened enthusiasm for
the dream of unlimited and unending progress. But vestiges of the myths of progress and
W estern exceptionalism are still visible.
4. Conclusion
The environment in which it is set has always shaped the Christian mission. For
17
Eric R. Wolf, Europe and the People without History (Berkeley: University of California, 1982),
385. The quote within is from Alexander Lesser, “Social Fields and the Evolution of Society,” Southwestern
Journal of Anthropology 17:42.
18
Marks, 156.
19
Quoted in Marks, 4.
most of the past two millennia, empires and global systems have defined the terms of the
social, political and economic environment in which missionaries have worked. In the first
two centuries Christians understood their mission to be clearly counter-cultural. By the time
of Constantine a shift was under way and the relationship, with a few exceptions, becomes
one of mutual support between mission and state. Buoyed by increasing W estern power and
self-confidence, Christians often merged mission with the diffusion of W estern knowledge
and influence throughout the world. It is always a mistake to take for granted that a
particular regime is mission-friendly and, therefore, it is safe to enter into alliance with the
state. The global vision given to us in the Great Commission is the only appropriate
framework within which to critique mission actions as well as the socio-cultural environment
in which the missionary is working. Because we have generally spiritualized the Great
Commission, we have failed to see it as a radical resource in creating God’s new order.
Responses to M ission in Global Perspective
Jan Bender Shetler
W hen I was asked to be a respondent for this conference I was somewhat reticent
since my expertise is in African social history and world history rather than theology or
missiology. Having worked with African Mennonite Churches and missionaries in Ethiopia,
Tanzania, Kenya and the Congo, the subject is important to me but not one in which I have
done academic work. So imagine my surprise when I read Shenk’s paper prior to these
meetings and found that he was discussing alternative views of world history in relation to
European expansion. This is material that I teach at Goshen College, even assigning one
of the books that he cites as required reading for a class in Global Poverty. I therefore
appreciate the fact that a missiologist is using material that world historians are currently
debating in his thinking about God’s mission to redeem creation. The recent historical work
that Shenk cites, makes it clear that Europeans were not any smarter or better equipped than
others to conquer the world, that trade and cultural interactions connected the world for
more than two thousand years, and the western version is not the first globalizing system.
But, having said that, the point I want to raise for discussion is to question the
wisdom of claiming that the gospel is an alternate form of globalization that precedes the
current one. Do we really want to equate God’s will for the universe with the current system
of globalization? Don’t all the universal religions, Islam, Buddhism, Judaism, etc, claim a
universal application and goal? Islam itself, in fact, was an earlier form of globalization
encompassing a worldwide trading system that was based on religious, not secular
development. The earlier global system of a polycentric world that Shenk refers to was one
based on interlinking trading zones and overlapping cultures without any central control.
The kind of globalization we are up against now is a very different kind of beast both in its
scope and its power to enforce a centralizing hegemonic dominance.
Perhaps my problem is in part with the implied definition of globalization as simply
something that is global in scope. The concept of globalization is much more systematic.
According to world system’s theory, globalization divides the world into a center which
controls the extraction of resources, and a periphery which provides resources and labor for
the benefit of the center. Whether you subscribe to this theory or not we are talking about
an interconnected, interdependent system of power rather than the sum of relationships that
span the globe. In this way the Silk Road or the Indian Ocean trading system in the 3 rd
century BCE connected people and products from Rome to Han China but it did not create
dependencies and systematic relationships until Islam created a unified culture of trade and
political interaction by about 1000 CE. This did not take in the scope of the whole world
Jan Bender Shetler is Assoc. Professor of History at Goshen College, Goshen IN. Darrell
Whiteman is Professor of Cultural Anthropology, directing the E. Stanley Jones School of
World Mission and Evangelism, Asbury Theological Seminary, Wilmore KY.

Jan Bender Shetler & Darrell W hitem an 93
but was systematic in nature.

It seems that in Shenk’s description, the Great Commission as a kind of
globalization, if you can call it that, does not impose a hegemonic cultural, economic or
political system. Instead the gospel is inculturated into a variety of diverse societies. The
story of Babel might also mean that God delights in the diversity of cultures and languages
and that the gospel is equally at home in each. W e are commissioned to take the ministry
to all peoples everywhere but not to impose a hegemonic world system when we do that, and
to work within the world’s diversity. The reign or kingdom of God does not take the form
of a particular political system but is incarnate in all kinds of systems. Shenk calls this the
original globalization but I wonder if it is in fact anti-globalization because it works against
the homogenizing of culture. As Shenk himself says, “the Holy Spirit legitimates all cultures
and cultural-linguistic diversity.” If we apply Shenk’s message, Christianity has been allied
with empires and in the recent past with European imperialism around the world, making
it our task now to uncouple this unholy alliance and return the gospel to its counter-cultural
roots. So while I applaud his use of the new world history in combating the myths of
progress and W estern exceptionalism, I do not think it advances our cause to call the
Christian mission to bring in God’s new order amidst and within the diversity of the world’s
peoples the original globalization or any globalization at all.
Darrell Whiteman
Thank you W ilbert for this excellent paper. It is quintessential Shenk - in a brief
treatment we get a comprehensive view of mission and a historical understanding of
globalization. I found myself lamenting: “Why doesn’t the mission world understand this
stuff?” If more people had this historical understanding and theological perspective, we
would have far less triumphalism and much more humility in our understanding and practice
of mission. I will focus my response in three areas: 1) diversity and unity, 2) mission and
empire, 3) humility and triumphalism.
Shenk stated that “the Creator’s design has an unmistakable unity of purpose.” It
is to redeem creation and restore it to its original purpose. This is the missio Dei, the mission
of God. God’s creation is full of diversity, both ecological and human - there are over 7,000
languages and over 13,000 people groups. The diversity of cultures are gifts of God’s grace.
Often the cultural and linguistic diversity that resulted in the story of Babel is interpreted as
a curse. But the sin of Babel was arrogance and idolatry - “Let us make a name for
ourselves”. Ethnocentrism starts early in the Bible and runs throughout. The Gospel is
always counter to ethnocentrism. Let us make a name for ourselves, as nations, as
denominations. W e still have this penchant. Babel is a blessing, not a curse. Diversity is a
good thing, not a bad thing in the Kingdom of God. Further Babel is redeemed in Pentecost.
Then in Rev. 7:9 comes the culmination of the Babel picture around the throne of God -
every people group, culture, worldview is worshiping God.
94 Responses to Mission in Global Perspective
One lesson of Scripture is that unity does not require uniformity of culture.
According to Acts 15 one can follow Christ without having to become culturally a Jew.
Christianity is the ultimate universal/local religion. There is a unity of purpose with a
diversity of expression.
Then secondly, on the theme of mission and empire, Shenk’s paper brilliantly
traces what happens when mission becomes aligned with empire. Jacques Ellul in his
provocative book, The Subversion of Christianity noted that for Christianity to remain vital,
Christians must remain in the minority. It seems to me that you Anabaptists are particularly
gifted at being minorities. I have often wondered why the best missiological anthropology
has come from Mennonites - Don Jacobs, Paul Hiebert, Jacob Loewen, Robert Ramseyer -
they’re all Mennonites. It has something to do with the fact that you are a minority. So you
are far more in touch with the role of culture than those who tend to be in the majority.
W hen Christianity becomes the majority religion it loses its prophetic witness and
therefore it loses its power. This is exactly what happened when Christendom took over and
swelled its power and consumed the gospel. The power of the gospel was simply swallowed
up by culture. Shenk says, “the great commission can be carried out faithfully only by
rejecting all attempts to ally God with a particular nation, class, or economic political
power.” Now as soon as missions, in the plural, which I see as our activity, becomes
dependent on social, political, economic power it is doomed to failure. That is just
counterintuitive, isn’t it? So let me repeat it. As soon as missions becomes dependent on
social, economic, political power, it is doomed for failure. Christendom may spread, but
Christian faith will not spread, it will die on the vine because that is antithetical to what it
stands for. The mission of the early church functioned effectively without that power. In
some ways the Constantinian decision, as I call it, was the kiss of death, for vital
transforming Christian faith. True mission, that is, participating in the Missio Dei, and
empire building are simply antithetical. Shenk has shown that to be the case throughout his
paper.
W ell, if that is the case, why have we for so long and so often been seduced into
thinking that empire will facilitate mission, ‘if we can only get our man into the W hite
House’, we have often prayed. W hy have we been tempted to practice the politics of empire
building rather than the politics of Jesus? Now by empire I mean much more than just the
empires of nation states. I mean the empires of multinational corporations and other
expressions of neocolonialism. By empire I mean our denominational empire, or of
evangelicals pitting themselves against mainline Protestants in order to gain a greater market
share in the religious marketplace. By empire building I mean professors building empires
with their students, I mean pastors building empires with their congregations. W e are all
prone to empire building. W e are tempted to connect mission with the empire because we
think we will be more effective. Much of the church growth movement is along that line.
W e think we will be more influential, we think we will have greater success and less failure.
Jan Bender Shetler & Darrell W hitem an 95
The problem is that we have forgotten the One who said, “he who would be first, must be
last”. That is not empire talk. The incarnation is about downward mobility, not upward
mobility and empire building.
Now to the third theme - humility and triumphalism. Shenk’s paper demonstrates
that globalization is not a new thing, despite the plethora of books that may lead us to
believe that it is. W hat is new, I believe, is the pace at which globalization is accelerating
but it is not a new phenomenon. The world, prior to the rise of the W est, was a polycentric
world, and both the previous respondent and Shenk’s paper clearly showed that. The
accomplishments and the systems of trade should help us have a far more chastened and
much more sober view of the W est in world history. W e don’t have that chastened sober
view. W e have a bellicose, a triumphal worldview. The rest of the world was not sitting
twiddling its thumbs waiting for the W est to arrive. Yet the myth of W estern superiority has
reinforced this notion. W e talk about America being discovered. A year ago in my
anthropology class we had some wonderful Native Americans who are now doing their
Ph.D.’s with us at Asbury, and I raised a question. I said that colonialism has died, right?
Of course I was thinking about political colonialism and was getting ready to move to
economic colonialism when Terry Lablanc, a first Nations man, said with a loud voice:
“you’re still here!” That was a teachable moment. It was just powerful.
The spirit of triumphalism has infected us more than we realize. This led to early
theories of mission that said we must civilize pagans before we can Christianize them. Now
we don’t use such politically incorrect terms, our language is much more sophisticated,
much more nuanced, but in fact we often practice the same form of mission, we just use
nicer words. How can we regain a spirit of humility, how can we regain a spirit of humility
in mission? I want to tell you the story of Ubolwan and Nantachai from Thailand. They were
two of my doctoral students, the first husband and wife team ever to come to Asbury for
their doctoral degrees. As they got into anthropology courses and started looking at Thai
culture, they said, ‘what is it in Thai culture that has made it so resistant to the Gospel? The
Christian presence has been there for 150 years, and yet less than .3 of 1% of the Thai
population is Christian. W hy so much resistance?’ So they started doing an evaluation of
Thai values. The leading Thai value is the value of meekness. W hat is meekness to us
Americans? W ell meekness is wishy-washy, not standing up for your own rights. But in
Thais, meekness is a positive value. W hat they discovered is that Christianity was perceived
by Thais to be aggressive, very aggressive, to be dominant. In fact Ubolwan, a Buddhist who
was a university professor, who was led to faith by an aggressive Korean, reported that her
mother once said to her: “before you became a Christian you were so much more gentle, so
much more loving, so much more kind. W hat has happened to you now that you have
become a Christian?” W hat had happened to her was that her understanding of
evangelization was this whole notion of power. So instead of being meek, she thought she
had to be persuasive. W ell, both Ubolwan and Nantachai wrote their dissertations on the
96 Responses to Mission in Global Perspective
power of meekness in evangelization, and I think this has been the greatest breakthrough in
the understanding of evangelization in Thailand. They travel across the country, giving
seminars on the model of meekness in evangelization.
W e need to combine a strong confidence in the Gospel with epistemological
humility. W e need big doses of both. Often we are not very confident in the Gospel yet
epistemologically we are arrogant. W hen we see missions as our activity for God, then it is
easy to become triumphalistic. But when we see mission as joining God’s mission, as joining
God in God’s mission, then the only posture that is appropriate is one of humility. There is
no room for triumphalism. So I see three themes that Shenk throws really valuable light on:
diversity with unity of purpose, mission without empire building, and humility without
triumphalism in our understanding and practice of mission.
M ISSION IN ANABAPTIST PERSPECTIVE
W ilbert R. Shenk
1. Introduction
Every ecclesiastical tradition ought to grapple with the question: What is the
contemporary missiological significance of this faith tradition? If a faith tradition is unable
to engage the present situation in a way that awakens in our contemporaries faith, hope and
love, it has become irrelevant. But there is evidence that too many churches have lost sight
of this essential task. Johannes Verkuyl, the well-known Dutch missiologist, likened the
purpose of missiology to that of a service station. It is to provide essential services so that
the church stays focused on its mission. To change the metaphor, the task of missiology is
to continually call the church back to its mandate, not simply to engage in academic
pleasantries.
Two comments of clarification are in order. First, missiology (Continental Europe)
or mission studies (Anglo-American) as a field of scholarly endeavor did not become
established until the beginning of the twentieth century, which is approximately a century
after the modern missionary movement was launched. A German Protestant pastor, Gustav
W arneck (1834-1910), is regarded as the prime mover. He was appointed to the first
professorship of missiology in Germany by the University of Halle in 1897. His work
inspired a younger Roman Catholic professor, Josef Schmidlin (1876-1944), to develop a
missiology attuned to the Roman Catholic tradition. Thus, two varieties of missiology were
developed: the one Protestant and the other Roman Catholic. Schmidlin acknowledged his
indebtedness to W arneck and his book, Catholic Mission Theory (1919 German orig.; Eng.
trans. 1931) makes frequent reference to W arneck; but Schmidlin was forthright in his
criticism of W arneck where his views did not square with the Catholic tradition.
Among Protestants what might be called a generic missiology developed. Mission
writers concentrated on the basic themes: missions strategy, principles, and methods.
Although some writers appealed to the scriptures to establish a basis for missionary work
and motivation, a full-blown theology of mission was not attempted until the mid-20 th
century. The International Missionary Council played an important role in sponsoring this
development. At least two things were at work here. One was that it was generally assumed
that the theology available was adequate. A more practical fact was that from the beginning
the modern mission movement was marked by a degree of fellowship and respect among
Protestant missions that their denominations in the homeland did not have. One thinks, for
example, of the Nonformist Baptist W illiam Carey, living in Serampore, a Danish Colony,
Wilbert R. Shenk, now residing in Elkhart IN (wshenk@fuller.edu) presented this as the

second of his keynote lectures at the conference on Mission in Global and Anabaptist
Perspective.

98 Mission in Anabaptist Perspective
being sought out for fellowship, and eventually becoming a colleague of, Anglican chaplains
in Calcutta. As much as possible, theological and ecclesiastical differences were set aside
in the interest of cooperation and cultivating good will. It was recognized that western
missionaries all needed the same basic training for foreign mission service and so-called
denominational distinctives were regarded as of secondary importance.
Representative of this generic missiology is the work of Robert E. Speer, one of
the most influential American mission leaders in the twentieth century. Speer served the
Presbyterian Board of Foreign M issions for forty-six years (1891-1937) and most of this
time was chief executive officer. Speer’s Missionary Principles and Practice (1902) gives
us a comprehensive overview of the state of mission thought at the beginning of the
twentieth century. This compendium of over 500 pages covers a broad range of
missiological issues with which missionaries and mission leaders had to deal. Speer does
not discuss concerns specific to Presbyterian missions. W hen he addresses, for example,
what is appropriate “ecclesiastical organization” of a mission-founded church and what the
relationship ought to be between the foreign mission and the new church, he treats this as
an issue all missions must confront. Two options were available. Methodists and Roman
Catholics insist that wherever they go they must found their own churches while another
group— Baptists, Congregationalists, Presbyterians and the Anglican Church Missionary
Society— are committed to an independent national church in which W estern
denominational distinctives are minimized, or set aside, in favor of a church thoroughly
rooted in indigenous culture.1 Speer’s approach is to treat key issues facing missions based
on wide experience and observation.
By the 1920s the effects of the modernist-fundamentalist warfare were reflected in
growing divisions along theological rather than denominational lines. Theological
liberalism and fundamentalism posed threats to all ecclesiastical traditions.
The second comment concerns the status of missiology in the academy. The period
1890-1914 was the high tide for Latourette’s Great Century. The driving force in this period
was the Student Volunteer Movement that was recruiting thousands of students to the cause
of foreign missions. This created a demand for special training for missionary service so
that seminaries rapidly added to their faculties at least one professor of missions. By 1960
mission studies had fallen on hard times and many seminaries were now phasing out these
professorships. The Kennedy School of Missions, established in 1917 in association with
Hartford Seminary, was disbanded in 1967. Mainstream Protestants assumed that
“missions” were passé and support, both in missionary recruits and finances, was steadily
declining. The attempt to restyle the missions curriculum as Ecumenics and W orld
Christianity did not restore strength and vitality.
Throughout the modern period missiological questions got little play in the writings
1
Robert E. Speer, Missionary Principles and Practice (New York: Fleming H. Revell Company,
1902), 63.
of theologians. The mission question was seen as the preoccupation of people on the fringe
of serious academic theology and not essential. Schleiermacher added “missions” to his
theological syllabus in 1810, inserting the topic at the end of the practical theology section.
And that is where missions remained until late in the twentieth century.
From time to time during the twentieth century there were bursts of concern about
the condition of the churches of W estern Christendom. To close observers the church in the
W est was in declining health. In 1943 Archbishop W illiam Temple established a
commission to consider the “problem of modern evangelism.” This commission produced
a notable report, Towards the Conversion of England (1945), that drew attention to the gulf
between the church and people, the declining church attendance, the need to find new ways
and situations where the gospel could be shared with people who will no longer come to
church, and the widespread spirit of nominality. But such commissioned studies have
seldom been catalysts for change. Sixty years later the membership rolls of the Anglican
Church are greatly reduced from what they were in 1945. To be sure, the Anglican
experience is not exceptional. Similar conditions are reported across Europe. In the United
States it is the venerable ecclesiastical traditions that have lost members steadily since the
1960s. The modern denomination is increasingly out of touch with postmodern people. It
is time to go back to basics and ask: what is the nature and purpose of the church? It seems
obvious that self-preservation was not what Jesus Christ had in the mind when he instituted
the church.
The modest journal, Mission Focus, initiated in 1972, had as its primary purpose
to promote reflection and writing on the theme of missiology in dialogue with the Anabaptist
or Believers’ Church tradition. About the same time, under sponsorship of the Institute of
Mennonite Studies, the Mennonite Mission Study Fellowship was started. One of the spin-
offs of that was the Missionary Studies published by IMS and Herald Press to encourage
missiological research and writing from an Anabaptist perspective.2 In 1984 I edited a
collection of essays entitled Anabaptistism and Mission 3 as a stopgap until a more
systematic treatment would be available. This volume was comprised of thirteen essays,
some of which had been previously published together with several unpublished papers.
In presenting reflections on “An Anabaptist Perspective on Mission” now I am not
interested in retreating into a romanticized past. Rather, I want to focus attention on what,
out of this particular theological and historical heritage, continues to challenge Christian
mission today.
2. Anabaptism and M issiology

If someone had proposed in 1900 that it would be worthwhile to study the
2
Between 1973 and 1993 twelve volumes were published, concluding with The Transfiguration of
Mission, Wilbert R. Shenk, ed. (Scottdale, Penna.: Herald Press, 1993).
3
Scottdale, Penna.: Herald Press, 1984.
contribution of Anabaptism to missiology, the suggestion would have been greeted with
incredulity. “Anabaptist” was still a term of derision and the spade-work that would recover
this part of Reformation history had hardly begun.
As already noted, in the first several decades after W arneck, missiology was either
Protestant or Roman Catholic in orientation. Since 1945 the situation has become far more
complex. Protestant missiology can now be divided into several categories: Mainline
Protestant, Evangelical, W estern, and Two-Thirds W orld to name the more obvious ones.
The Pentecostal/Charismatic movement is making strides in developing its mission theology.
Orthodox missiology has developed considerably since 1960 and insists that it, too, has a
unique contribution to make. Since Vatican Council 2 Roman Catholic missiology has gone
through a number of developments. In the late 1960s liberation theology burst on the scene
and challenged traditional Catholic missiology. Pope Paul VI called the church to renewed
effort in evangelization. Pope John Paul II tried to rouse the church in the W est to the task
of “re-evangelization of the W est.” At the same time the Vatican tried to bring Catholic
mission theology back to a more biblical focus. One of the major issues has been the
Church’s teaching on other religions, especially Judaism and Islam.
This greatly compressed summary must suffice to set the stage for our attempt to
assess the place of Anabaptism in relation to the wider developments in mission theology
and missiology. The dean of mission theologians of the last generation, David J. Bosch,
published his magnum opus— or, as characterized by Lesslie Newbigin, “Bosch’s Summa
Missiologica— in 1991. Bosch was the first mainstream missiologist to include mention of
Anabaptist contributions to mission theology. 4 In his discussion of “The Reformers and
Mission,” Bosch revisits the question: W ere the Reformers sympathetic to mission? The
Lutheran Gustav W arneck, in his Outline of a History of Protestant Missions (1884),
identified eight reasons why the Reformers did not engage in missionary work.5
1. The Reformers were preoccupied with the internal reform of the
church, in the restoration of proper doctrine and practice.
2. The Reformers were almost crushed by external conflict with the
Catholic princes; militarily and politically they were on the defensive and
had no resources left for outreach.
3. The pope and the Turk being apocalyptic figures, the two forms of
antichrist, the shadow of their rebellion was cast over the people they
dominated, which were all the near neighbors of the Protestant countries.
One does not expect the conversion of antichrist.
4. The last day was at hand.
5. The Great Commission had been given to the apostles and they had
discharged it; the church was already everywhere.
4
Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in the Theology of Mission (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books,
1991), 245-48.
5
Here I use the convenient summary of John H. Yoder, “Reformation and Missions: A Literature
Survey,” in Wilbert R. Shenk, ed., Anabaptism and Mission (Scottdale, Penna.: Herald Press, 1984), 41.
6. Reformation, when seen as the conversion of the baptized unbelievers

within Christendom to the correct evangelical faith, was already the
essence of mission.
7. The best known colonial-missionary work was a popish, monkish, and
Spanish monopoly, disqualified by its association with such sponsors.
8. The Germans had no direct contact with heathen peoples; they had no
non-Christian neighbors.
W arneck’s tone was appreciative but critical. His verdict has been contested by
a number of twentieth-century scholars. Bosch summarizes the arguments leveled against
W arneck’s judgment in five observations: (1) The Reformers believed their primary task
was reform of the church; (2) unlike the Spanish and Portuguese, the Reformers had no
direct contact with non-Christian peoples; (3) the Reformers’ churches were struggling for
their very existence; (4) since the Reformers abandoned monasticism, they lacked a ready-
made corps of people to send on missions; and (5) the churches of the Reformers were
wracked by internal divisions, leaving no energy for missionary work. 6 After reviewing this
scholarly defense of the Reformers, Bosch counters saying: “All these factors also applied
to the Anabaptists, and yet they were involved in a remarkable program of missionary
outreach.” 7 He then puts forward four points that separated the two Reformation streams.
First, while both Luther and the Anabaptists affirmed the priesthood of
all believers, the latter made a radical application. The Anabaptists
rejected the Christendom system of territorially defined parishes with the
priestly office tied to a particular parish. Note that this same charge was
laid against John Wesley, George W hitefield and other eighteenth-century
evangelists who itinerated widely and preached in barns and town
squares. They were charged with violating the law by preaching in
“unconsecrated places.” From the Anbaptist’s viewpoint the whole of
Germany, and Europe for that matter, was a mission field. For them the
task was obvious: evangelize everyone everywhere.
Second, the Anabaptists insisted that the Great Commission was still
binding on the church and, therefore, was the responsibility of every
member. As Littell and others have shown, the Matthean and Markan
versions of the Great Commission were the texts most frequently quoted
in Anabaptist confessions of faith and in their many court testimonies.
Third, the Anabaptists called for a complete separation of church and
state, including the nonparticipation by their members in government
responsibilities.
Fourth, the Reformers called for reformation of the church; the
Anabaptists insisted on replacement. The Reformers were not prepared
to condemn all aspects of the Christendom Church but insisted it could
be reformed and restored. The Anabaptists judged the whole to be
apostate and, therefore, it ought to be replaced by a new work of grace.8
6
Ibid, 245.
7
Ibid; emphasis in original.
8
Ibid, 246-47.
Bosch leaves the Anabaptists at this point. As we know their witness in the
sixteenth-century was foreshortened by intense and prolonged persecution. Their
descendents found places of refuge away from the struggle of the founding generation. But
the Anabaptist witness against the state-church alliance did not die. 9 Other nonconformist
groups became strong proponents in the seventeenth century. In an environment where the
Enlightenment was challenging old orthodoxies, others, such as the Baptists, took up the
cause and advocated that the right of individual conscience and the separation of church and
state ought to be guaranteed by law. Eventually, it became a pillar of the United States
theory of government and, ultimately, an article of faith in the western world.
The “free church” vision increasingly became the modus operandi of the modern
mission movement. In Asian and African societies where Christians have been a minority,
there was no place for a territorial or state church. In the first couple of generations converts
were mostly adults. The Christendom understanding and practices of church did not fit.
Only the free church model seemed to be appropriate. However, this de facto acceptance
of the free church model did not lead to the development of a theology that would support
this alternative model. The mission-founded churches have made do with the theological
inheritance they received from their ecclesiastical forebears.
3. Contemporary M issiological Challenges

To test the “contemporary missiological significance” of Anabaptism one must
identify key features of the present situation that relate directly to what is regarded as
essential to Anabaptism. I have selected only two such points.
A world of violence. Since 1985 the “Annual Statistical Table on Global
Mission,” prepared by the noted statistician of world Christianity, David B. Barrett, has been
a regular annual feature of the January issue of the International Bulletin of Missionary
Research. In 1986 Barrett added a new line: “Average Christian Martyrs per year.” The
one-page statistical summary for 1986 is arranged in five columns showing the numbers for
1900 (35,000), 1970 (230,000), 1980 (270,000), 1986 (330,000) and 2000 (est. 500,000).
The benchmark years have, of course, been adjusted as we have moved forward in time. For
2005 the line “Average Christian Martyrs per year” runs: 1900 (34,000), 1970 (377,000),
mid-2000 (160,000), mid-2005 (169,000), 2025 (210,000).10
W hen Barrett introduced the data on Christian martyrs in 1986, he explained the
rationale for it as follows: “People often criticize statistics of Christians for not including
9
Harold S. Bender, The Anabaptists and Religious Liberty in the 16th Century. Facet Books.
(Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1970; repr. of article published in Archiv fuer Reformationsgeschichte 44 [1953],
32-50), and M. Searle Bates, Religious Liberty: An Inquiry (New York and London: International Missionary
Council, 1945).
10
David B. Barrett, “Annual Statistical Table on Global Mission: 1986,” International Bulletin of
Missionary Research 10:1 (January 1986):22-23, and David B. Barrett, Todd M. Johnson and Peter F. Crossing,
“Missiometrics 2005: A Global Survey of World Mission,” IBMR 29:1 (January 2005):27-30.
quality of commitment. Line 27 describes Christians who undergo the ultimate test of
commitment: martyrdom, which means losing one’s life for Christ as a result of human
hostility. The annual numbers involved throughout the twentieth century are far higher than
any of us had hitherto imagined. Martyrdom continues to play a major role in local,
national, regional, continental, and global evangelization. Pentecostal theologian W . J.
Hollenweger was right when he once wrote: ‘Evangelism is the most dangerous business.’” 11
Some people have been uneasy about Barrett’s data on Christian martyrdom and
queried his sources. He has declined to disclose how the information is collected and so
there is no way of verifying these figures. It is evident that Barrett himself has changed his
figures. (Note that in his 1986 report the number of martyrs for 1900 was 235,000 while in
the 2005 report it is 234,000. The 1986 report listed 230,000 martyrs in 1970; in his 2005
report the information for 1970 has been adjusted upward to 270,000.) At best, this kind
of information cannot be precise. Much of what is reported is based on “educated guesses.”
Furthermore, reporting on Christian martyrs may obscure the fact that people of other
religious persuasions are also being killed for their faith. Martyrdom is not unique to
Christians. Indeed, in some cases Christians are the perpetrators of violence against others.
Nonetheless, I am grateful that David Barrett decided to include this data line because it
reminds us that violence continues to cast a shadow over Christian disciples in many parts
of the world. W hile the killing of a missionary like Gordon Staines and his two young sons
in India in 1999 got worldwide attention, most are known only to their families and local
communities.
Clash and Counter-Clash. The twentieth century was marked by large-scale
violence. W e cannot point to one main cause. Ideology has inspired violent revolutionary
conflict in countries like Russia, China and Cuba. But many other conflicts stem from inter-
religious-inter-ethnic rivalries that have festered for generations.
Samuel P. Huntington’s “Clash of Civilizations” thesis has come in for much
criticism. 12 Repeatedly, I have heard this thesis criticized and dismissed, only to hear the
critic immediately resort to using Huntington’s framework to explain the present situation.
One does not have to accept everything Huntington has to say to benefit from his main
analysis. He includes in his calculus a cluster of factors: cultural, religious, economic,
historical, and political. For people outside the W est human reality is treated holistically.
Seldom can one single out one factor as the cause.
As I write, the new president of Iran has just called for the annihilation of Israel.
He is appealing directly to the youth of Iran. As in other Muslim countries that have a bulge
in the age group that is about to enter the job market, Iran faces a challenge in find
employment for this restive sector of its population. It is no easy thing to satisfy young
11
Ibid (1986), 22.
12
Samuel P. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order (New York:
Simon and Schuster, 1996).
people who lack a hopeful future in terms of education and employment. President
Ahmadinejad played on the “clash of civilizations” without hesitation.
4. An Anabaptist Response
I began this paper with a challenge: Every ecclesiastical tradition ought to grapple
with the question: What is the contemporary missiological significance of this faith
tradition? It is a challenge I wish put to those of us who claim to embrace the Anabaptist
tradition. W hat resources, if any, do we find in the Anabaptist tradition that would
encourage the global church toward greater missionary faithfulness in the kind of world that
is our native habitat today?
In the sixteenth century the controlling power in the lives of the citizenry was the
state church. In the twenty-first century people live with threats, including violence, in many
countries. These threats come from various sources, including persecution by a religious
majority, religious fanaticism, interethnic conflict, and political instability. In the sixteenth
century, in response to the state church control over the lives of all citizens, the Anabaptists
sued for the freedom to serve God as their consciences directed. They developed a rationale
that may serve as a starting point in our reflection on our contemporary situation. I put it
this way to make the point that we should not assume that we must apply a sixteenth-century
formulation in a wooden way. Rather this provides a model of how we should work out a
faithful response in a specific context today.
In his study, The Anabaptists and Religious Liberty in the Sixteenth Century,
Harold S. Bender concluded that the Anabaptists based their defense of liberty of conscience
and freedom of religion on six elements.13 In the first place, the teaching and example of
Jesus Christ and the apostles was normative. In his teaching and by example Jesus never
sanctions the use of coercion. Instead, Jesus taught and modeled the opposite. The
Anabaptists could not accept the Reformers attempts to justify violent persecution on
theological grounds. This, they argued, could not be reconciled with a plain reading of the
scriptures. In the sixteenth century Philip of Hesse, not an Anabaptist, held that “to take the
life of those who believe differently, as is done in some principalities and countries, one
cannot reconcile with the Gospel.” 14 Thoughtful people in the sixteenth century, other than
Anabaptists, also came to the same conclusion.
Second, the Christian faith is to be understood as active discipleship, a following
of Jesus Christ “rather than prim arily as passive acceptance of the grace of God or
reception of the word and sacram ents at the hands of the church or as a subm ission to
a theology.” W henever the church presents the faith as something mediated only by the
church, it paves the way for the church to insist that, as custodian of salvation, it cannot do
other than to force people to accept God’s provision. This played into the concept of an
13
Bender, ibid, 19-22.
14
Cited by Bender, 20.
official church responsible for a certain territory. Johannes Kühn said “the Anabaptists
conceived the essence of revelation as primarily the call of God to the conscience of man
to follow the commands of Christ. Seeing in Christianity primarily the duty of active,
aggressive discipleship and evangelism and of applying the gospel by personal human effort
to individual and social needs.” 15 The Anabaptist held to a dynamic, rather than passive,
view of discipleship.
Third, church mem bership must be based on a voluntary and free com m itment.
People who are coerced into being members of the church are typically resentful and, at
best, lukewarm in their allegiance. These are the ingredients for a passive and purely formal
membership. Such people have never left the “world” in the first place. This practice
dilutes the meaning of membership and weakens the body of Christ.
The fourth assumption is that an authentic Christian is one who shows love for
all people, believer and unbeliever alike, enem y as well as friend. The Sermon on the
Mount establishes this as normative for the disciple of Jesus Christ. Heinrich Bullinger, who
succeeded Ulrich Zwingli as pastor in Zurich in 1531, reported that the Anabaptists “teach
that Christians dare not behave contrary to love; punishing or killing for matters of belief
is contrary to love, therefore Christians persecute and kill no one for reason of his faith.” 16
Menno Simons held that the Christian faith is based on love. “The true church of Christ… is
recognizable as the true church of Christ, that it suffers persecution and does not itself
persecute.” 17
The fifth principle is a corollary of the fourth. The path to victory is the path of
suffering. Discipleship cannot be separated from martyrdom. Love of enemy will be costly
love. Ethelbert Stauffer asserted, “Martyrdom is in truth a reflex of the cosmic battle
between God and Anti-God, and the victory of the martyr forecasts the final victory of the
spiritual powers. Thus martyrdom is both a causal and a teleological necessity.” 18 Because
it points to the ultimate victory of righteousness and peace over sin and violence, the
Anabaptists faced persecution and martyrdom with confidence and hope.
Sixth, the Anabaptists were convinced that faith is God’s gift alone; it cannot be
created by hum an com pulsion. Neither church nor state has the power to instill faith. It
comes as the individual experiences conversion to the will and the spirit of Jesus Christ.
Salvation is God’s ultimate gift to humankind.
To the six convictions that Harold Bender identified, we must add a seventh: The
Com m ission to disciple the nations has priority claim on the Christian’s loyalty and life.
Anabaptists argued that it was an egregious contradiction for the Christian to profess the
15
Ibid., 21. This is Bender’s summary of Kühn.
16
Ibid.
17
Ibid, 22.
18
Ethelbert Stauffer, “The Anabaptist Theology of Martyrdom,” in H.. Wayne Pipkin, ed., Essays in
Anabaptist Theology. Text Reader Series 5 (Elkhart, IN: Institute of Mennonite Studies, 1994), 211
gospel and then engage in killing so-called enemies. Jesus commanded his disciples to
“love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matt. 5:44b). To kill an enemy
was to deny that person the opportunity to repent and receive God’s grace. Those who
retaliate contribute to the spiral of violence. Jesus calls his disciples to be peacemakers.
In spite of the development of liberal democracies over the past two centuries,
oppression and persecution are present all over the world. An increasing number of
governments claim that their constitutions guarantee freedom of religion, but the way the
law is administered does not reflect religious freedom. During the past two years the small
Vietnamese Mennonite had several key leaders imprisoned. The constitution of Vietnam
guarantees freedom of religion but the government continues to repress those who express
opposition to government actions and policies. The Meserete Kristos Church in Ethiopia
had its church buildings sealed by government order in 1982 and the ban was not lifted until
1991. Between 1949 and 1989 hundreds of thousands of Christians in China suffered
grievously for their faith.
Religious persecution in the twenty-first century may appear to take forms different
from that of the sixteenth. W hat is unchanged, however, is that the faith of Christian
believers continues to be tested. How are they being prepared and supported when the time
of testing comes?
W e have already noted that the level of violence has, if anything, increased during
the past century. Inter-ethnic conflicts plague many societies. At a time of heightened
awareness of the global scope of the Christian movement, we have an opportunity to find
new ways of demonstrating Christian solidarity across all the lines that divide people. The
Anabaptist witness to the Gospel of peace and reconciliation is as relevant today as it was
in the sixteenth century.
Responses to M ission in Anabaptism Perspective
John A. Lapp
I want to begin by recognizing W ilbert Shenk’s enormous contribution to the
disciplined study of Christian missions. He stimulated, guided, and encouraged most of us
in our conceptualizing and reflecting on mission history, theory and practice. Ten years ago
this year he convened a meeting at AM BS which provided the spark for the Global
Mennonite History Project, which has occupied much of my time in the last six or seven
years.
In an opening essay in The Transfiguration of Mission (1993), Shenk addressed the
need for a relevant missiology. He highlighted two priorities. Such a missiology will first
of all bring the fullness of Biblical revelation in Jesus the Messiah to bear on the mission
task as it is unfolding before us. And secondly, a relevant missiology will help the church
embrace its mission fully through a clear discernment of the times with a vision of what a
dynamic missionary response requires. I thank W ilbert for clearly identifying that agenda
and for his own creative work on these priorities these past decades.
This paper (as well as the first one) illustrates well the way Wilbert Shenk works.
After clarifying the topic he denotes the context, both in terms of scholarly study and the
historical situation. Here he connects Anabaptism to missiology through an external scholar,
David Bosch, and an internal scholar, Harold Bender. There is modesty, openness and
challenge to each of us to collectively continue this inquiry. I appreciate that he did not, and
I think it is significant, that he does not make an easy connection of Anabaptist themes with
Mennonite mission realities. The impetus for and indeed Mennonite mission practices
developed largely from the influences of the larger, particular Protestant missionary
tradition, rather than from any memories that we had in the early 20 th century of Anabaptist
enthusiasm for mission. And so we do have a task that he lays in front of us, to work out a
faithful response based on 16 th century convictions applied in today’s specific contexts.
This context he suggests in almost offhanded ways, is postmodern, global, perhaps post-
denominational, and, as he emphasized this morning, even more persecution prone than the
16 th century. He invites us to join in this searching of this particular theological and
historical heritage which continues to challenge Christian mission today.
As I worked through the paper during the past week, it became increasingly
obvious to me that I had no serious disagreements. I strongly affirm his opening thesis that
every tradition must deal with its missiological significance in faith, hope and love. The
historical sketch certainly hits all the highlights. His use of Harold Bender’s six points and
then adding his own I thought was a very interesting stroke and gives us a much fuller view
John A. Lapp, is Exec. Sec. Emeritus of Mennonite Central Committee; Ron Flaming is
Director of International Programs of MCC. Both live in Akron, PA.

108 Responses to Mission in Anabaptist Perspective
of Bender’s concept of Anabaptism, than is contained in his “Anabaptist vision” statement

itself. So most of what I want to do now is simply to expand what W ilbert has said, and I
hope it does not contradict him very much.
First I want to comment on the discussion last evening on whether the New
Testament is inherently triumphalistic. I am very fond of Paul Hanson’s biblical theology
and I believe it was W ilbert Shenk who suggested I get acquainted with it. Some may
remember his big book of 20 years ago The People Called.1 At one point in his book Hanson
says that if a contemporary faith community is to make sense out of a complex world by
bearing witness to a unifying vision and at the same time is to avoid the snares of
triumphalism and self-aggrandizement, this community must take seriously the biblical motif
of being a servant people, a people responding with fear and trembling to God’s initiative
and mindful of its solidarity with the entire human family. W ell, if the biblical drama is to
be triumphal in any way, it is God who triumphs, not us. Not our churches, not our mission
agencies, and none of our high blown mission strategies. W e only participate in the triumph
to the degree that we are a servant people, in solidarity with and for all humanity. That is my
comment on last night’s discussion.
I have a great interest in the continuing impact of the Constantinian outlook and
mentality. I recently read two books that deal with this in rather remarkable ways. The first
book is by Lee Camp, a Church of Christ theologian and ethicist, who begins his book Mere
Discipleship, Radical Christianity in a Rebellious World, 2 pondering the significance of the
1994 genocide in Rwanda, “the most Christian country in Africa”. Then Camp muses on the
radical claim that Jesus is Lord, which confronts the church with issues of allegiance,
ultimate authority, norms and standards for human life, all of which can erode very quickly.
Could it be, Camp asked, that Jesus is Lord has become one of the most widespread
Christian lies? After Rwanda, he describes the cultural activity of the church in Nashville
Tennessee, the Protestant Vatican where he now lives. Amidst a thousand houses of
Christian worship, a multitude of denominational boards and institutions, Christian book
publishers, the contemporary music industry headquarters, and even the largest Christian
diet marketer, you get a culture in which the church is inexorably intertwined with every
facet of life. “Nashville”, he says, “is as Christian as it gets.” Then he goes on to wonder
whether American Christian culture has been baptizing unrepentant social systems and
structures. Has American Christianity too often shelved its discipleship, compartmentalized
its faith, and thus been blinded by the unredeemed cultural forces that leave us prey to the
principalities and powers of the world.
The second recent book I read is by Douglas John Hall, Canadian United Church
1
Paul D. Hanson, The People Called : The Growth of Community in the Bible. (Louisville, Ky.:
Westminster John Knox Press, rev’d ed. 2001; originally published 1986 by Harper & Row.)
2
Lee C. Camp, Mere Discipleship : Radical Christianity in a Rebellious World. (Grand Rapids:
Brazos Press, 2003.)
John A. Lapp & Ron Flam ing 109
theologian, The Cross in our Context. 3 I would strongly recommend that book because he
contrasts the cross with the theology of glory. He has some powerful pages on missiology
and peacemaking. He begins his book in a striking manner by reflecting on some graffiti
scrawled on the wall of the Presbyterian college in Montréal on 911. He examines the phrase
which appeared on the wall of the Presbyterian college - “religion kills”. Then he observes,
that Christianity has by no means repented of its propensity to aggressive behavior. Hall
moves on from this to reflect on a more subtle yet also more deadly level the association of
the Christian religion with white, W estern, Northern, economic, military and cultural
imperialism, which constitutes possibly the most insidious cause of global peril. He goes on
to assert that in fact it can be argued that the current bellicosity of the militant forms of Islam
represents a reaction of the M uslim world to the humiliation by the powerfully technocratic
W est, especially as the latter is embodied in the one remaining planetary superpower, which
just happens to be the most avowedly Christian of all the nations of the world.
I want to end with two stories, and all of this is commentary on Shenk’s paper. The
church I attend in Lititz PA, also sponsors a number of missionaries around the world. One
of the couples that we helped to sponsor are Joe and Cheryl Hollinger, who have been
Eastern Mennonite M ission representatives in Wales for the last decade. Every other
summer they come home to make their reports and to ensure us that they are still
missionaries. Last summer the title of their sermon was “Don’t Rejoice in Success, Rejoice
that your Names are W ritten in Heaven”(Lk 10). They have now retired after 10 years,
bringing their children back to American schools, etc. They had a fruitful ministry, I think,
in a Baptist congregation in Wales. But there is no big outburst of growth in that
congregation, in fact they had to hold it together while preachers came and went. I think it
is a very important part of the Anabaptist tradition to focus on discipleship in a non-
triumphalist manner. Bearing witness will not always be a success story.
A couple of years ago, J. R. Burkholder and his wife Susan, Alice and I had lunch
with Amos and Nora Hoover. Amos is an Old Order Mennonite historian and church leader.
One of our topics was the Old Order M ennonite view of evangelism. After a few moments
Amos said, “well of course, we believe in the ‘all things’.” I remembered that the great
commission of the King James version talks about the ‘all things’. Then he went on to say
that they regard ‘all things’ as something to do with the way we live and work. That is the
beginning of bearing witness for Old Order M ennonites, to live the story is as important for
them as to tell the story. The second thing he said is that it is also true that no one person or
one couple knows ‘all things’, but that it takes a small community who know the ‘all things’.
So he told the story of his daughter and her family, and four or five other families, who had
moved from Lancaster County to Clarion County Pennsylvania to begin a new Christian
community. It took all of them to do that work.
3
Douglas John Hall, The Cross in Our Context : Jesus and the Suffering World. Minneapolis: Fortress
Press, 2003.
So these two stories we might want to ponder as we reflect on what W ilbert Shenk
has shared with us about the Anabaptist tradition and contemporary realities. I strongly
endorse his concluding sentence that the Anabaptist witness for peace and reconciliation is
as relevant in the 21 st century as in the 16 th century.
Ron Flaming
Thank you W ilbert Shenk for your presentation and your work among us. I am
pleased to respond to your paper on this occasion. I come to this from the perspective of
practitioner, particularly interested that your preface states that the theological task of
mission needs to inform our practice. Since that is where I spend my days, I appreciate the
question: what is the contemporary missiological significance of our faith? I want to get to
that part of your presentation shortly, but I would also like to touch a little bit on the
question of martyrdom which you referred to.
I am glad that you have noted this in your presentation. W e live in a world in
which violence is increasingly a part of our reality. Mission administrators struggle to
answer questions about risk assessment for workers that we have not faced in recent history.
The question which is always on our minds when this issue comes up is the balance between
faithfulness and stewardship in terms of the people who serve with us. I often wonder what
amount of suffering churches are really ready to face on behalf of Christian service. If
someone was killed in the line of service, what questions would be asked of us as
administrators? W hat is reasonable risk? I have on my e-mail today a question about our
workers going back into Iraq, and I have to sign off on that at some point. W e have
questions about worker safety in the face of a possible avian flu outbreak. W hat is faithful
service and what is unreasonable risk? W hat is the criterion that we use? Is there a
difference between martyrdom which resulted from killing Christians on account of their
faith or death while in Christian service? Today if a Christian worker from America is killed
it is more likely because of their affiliation with the US government than their Christian
faith. Does that change the discussion in any way? In the midst of these difficult decisions,
it is an important reminder that we should expect faithfulness to the kingdom to involve
suffering.
More to the point on your comments about Anabaptist essentials, I affirm with you
Bender’s six elements and the seventh you have added. I think we would also want to add
the separation of church and state which is mentioned earlier in the paper. In today’s world
it is critical more than ever that we call attention to that issue. Some time ago at a meeting
of US humanitarian aid agencies, the then secretary of state Powell addressed the group. He
started his address by saying “you are our most important allies in the war against terrorists”,
referring to the humanitarian aid agencies that were meeting. He was half right. When
humanitarian aid and development is done right and people and communities are
transformed, that is the most effective response to evil and terrorism. But Powell was also
John A. Lapp & Ron Flam ing 111
wrong in terms of trying to co-opt that energy for the purposes of US policy. The disaster
of this approach has unfortunately become all too clear as it is being played out in
Afghanistan and Iraq. Tremendous problems are being created by this attempt to co-opt the
development and relief agencies. Of course many agencies, even faith based agencies, today
fund much of their work through government funding. This practice has increased
significantly in recent years— as has the American administration’s attempts to dictate its
use. This is a critical issue both in term of security (the closer one is aligned with the
belligerent power the greater ones own security risk) but also an issue of identity - who we
are? W here is our loyalty? W e cannot serve two kingdoms at the same time.
Secondly, I would like to hold out this question about community discernment that
John Lapp referred to briefly at the end of his remarks. Mission needs to be carried out in
the presence of the discerning community. It is urgent to find an authentic global
accountability for how we use our mission resources. In that sense it is helpful to see the
emergence of the Global Mission Fellowship. W e have a long way to go to make that
authentic but I think it is proceeding in the right direction. As the mission efforts in the
current environment are becoming more diffuse, or localized, this discernment process
becomes all the more critical. One does not do mission just because one feels called to this
or that. W here is it being tested to say - is this authentic? How does it respond to our
partners and what they would like to do? Related to this, I would like to see us pursue more
effective and serious peer review. Is our practice really contributing to building God’s
kingdom in the way we would hope? I appreciate, W ilbert, that you keep pushing us on this
one because I don’t think that we are doing our work here. Mary Anderson’s book Do no
Harm 4 points out how often good intentions end up unintentionally doing some very bad
things. In mission efforts we have to take this seriously. W e could do worse, I think, than
to develop some commonly agreed to “do no harm” practices.
Let me give a simple example. W hen I was in India one of my tasks was to work
with visa’s for the school. It was an endless process filled with difficulty so I got to know
the visa officer quite well. W e had opportunity over several years to discuss many issues
including religious topics. One day over a cup of tea he asked, “W hy is it that you
Christians are the most deceitful people I know?” I was a little startled at his frankness. But
he was talking about the practice of many foreign Christians who were trying to come into
India under tourist visas when their real intention was church work. He went on to say, “I
don’t understand how you justify doing that kind of thing and what kind of witness that is?”
Many Indian Christians I knew also deplored the practice. That is an unintended negative
consequence of a good intention. The task before us is so important that we cannot afford
to use the gifts that have been entrusted to us unwisely. A more deliberate peer review
process could be an important step in this direction.
4
Mary B. Anderson, Do No Harm : How Aid Can Support Peace--or War. Boulder, Colo.: Lynne
Rienner Publishers, 1999.
I would like to return to Shenk’s question about the contemporary missiological

significance of our faith. If we take the seven elements he referred to, and even add a couple
more, we have the marks of how to do mission. However, I want to call attention to the fact
that Shenk urges us not to get too wooden on this, that is, not simply seek to re-create the
16 th century Anabaptist way of doing things. In my mind this is a form and function
question. Form should follow function. Form is important but when we focus on it too
much or that becomes our starting point, we risk losing track of the function and it also gets
more difficult for the Spirit to break through in new ways— creating new forms. I wonder
whether part of what we need to do here, is to capture the question: what is the Anabaptist
perspective on what God is doing in the world? W hen we focus primarily on the form it can
have a kind of “retro” feel to it— recapturing an earlier form, rather than getting in touch
with the living God of today.
W ilbert calls us to more serious reflection on our practice. If we have a clear
understanding of what God is about we have a better way to ask if what we are doing is
really helping God’s work. If we truly believe that God is creating transformed communities
and individuals, we should be asking if what we are doing is really supporting this holistic
vision. Even if our particular work is a specialized form of ministry such as evangelism,
community development, prophetic witness, or education, at the end of the day we should
be asking if our work is contributing to holistic transformation. W hatever our own
contribution, are people, communities, and societies all being transformed? Is the church
being supported by what we are doing? If not, what needs to change in our practice to make
this happen? W ork in this area, supported by vigorous peer review, would perhaps help us
take more seriously your question of how we can start to evaluate our practice against the
mission call to which we give assent.
Thank you W ilbert for pushing us on this question about how we can be
authentically Anabaptist and faithful in the world in which we live. I close with a personal
note. Thank you for your part in my life, both personal and professional. As you move into
the next chapter of your life, I hope you will not be too far away. I have always felt that the
questions of administration and leadership were not very far from your heart. Your
experience as a mission administrator has stayed with you. That I have always appreciated
and thank you very much. Best wishes.
M ISSIOLOGY AND ANABAPTIST ECCLESIOLOGY: CHALLENGES TO
BUILDING PEACE
Jaime Adrián Prieto Valladares 1
Introduction
W hen we speak of missiology, ecclesiology and theological education from the
perspective of our institutions and churches we need to view them as exercises in
understanding the mysteries of God. W e can only begin to speak of God inasmuch as we
are willing to perceive God in the infinite greatness of the Cosmos, in the immensity of
God’s loving kindness as manifest in the Son, Jesus of Nazareth, 2 and in the manner by
which we express ourselves - in our educational centers, in our churches, in our diverse
cultures, in our society – with deeds and words reflecting the love of God that dwells in our
hearts.
W hen we think of missiology we must go all the way back to the creation of all
things because the glory of God is manifest there. W hen we speak of ecclesiology we must
immediately fall back on the Holy Scriptures because they witness to God’s covenant with
humanity. It is a covenant that extends from the formation of a people, Israel, passing
through the New Testament, with the coming of Jesus, to the full manifestation of God’s
Holy Spirit reaching to all nations and cultures.
W e are gathered here in a center of theological education and it is possible that we
are thinking of the Biblical Sciences, of Hermeneutics, of Systematic Theology, of
Anthropology, of the Biblical languages, of the Pastoral Disciplines, of the History of the
Church, of Ethics and of other disciplines as the basic avenues through which to reflect on
the missiological and ecclesiological issues of our time. Now I grant that there is a degree
of truth in this, but on this occasion I would like to begin to think about the missiological
and ecclesiological challenges before us by referring to the revelation that the loving God
shared with me through our sister Cecilia Espinoza Jiménez, a sister from the indigenous
Triqui people I visited in March 2005.
Cecilia Espinoza lives in the town of San Isidro de Morelos, in the District of
Tlaxiaco in the State of Oaxaca. 3 It is located about 300 miles southeast of Mexico City,
1
Translated from Spanish by John Driver.
2
Robert Haight, Jesús símbolo de Deus, Sao Paulo: Editora Paulinas, 2003
3
The Triqui people are found in the western part of the State of Oaxaca, principally in the following
localities: a) San Andrés Chicahuaxtla and Santo Domingo del Estado, a district of Putla; b) San Martín Itunyoso
and San José Xoxhixtlán, in the district of Tlaxiaco; and c) San Juan and San Miguel Copala in the district of
Jaime Adrian Prieto Valladares is Professor of History and was Dean of the Biblical
University of Latin America in San Jose, Costa Rica. He is author of the forthcoming Latin
America volume of the Global Mennonite History, and presented this paper as one of four
lectures at Bethel College, Newton KS in November 2005.

114 Missiology and Anabaptist Ecclesiology
D.F. She is descended from a people that during the colonial period had as their authorities
persons of considerable note and whose positions were hereditary. During the 19 th century,
thanks to the confiscation of lands carried out during the agrarian reform, the lands of the
Triqui were sold to the García Veyrán Company. However, following the revolution, a part
of their territory was restored to the Triqui people. From 1920 onward several groups of the
dominant Putla people entered the Triqui territories as coffee buyers and dealers in a traffic
of arms and rum. Between 1940 and 1948, San Andrés Chicahuaxtla and San Juan Copala
were reduced from their status as municipalities, with only San Martin Itunyoso remaining
as a municipality.4
Throughout the lowlands the traditional structures of authority among the Triqui
disappeared because the cultivation of coffee tended to increase the private ownership of
property and violent conflicts over the possession of land increased. In San Isidro de
Morelos, as well as in La Laguna de Guadalupe located in the highlands, conflict over the
possession of land was much less frequent. But the scarcity of land led to the migration of
its inhabitants toward the small cities nearby and even to the larger cities farther away in
search of work. For these reasons, Cecilia Espinoza is part of an indigenous people that has
struggled for many years to survive in the midst of a society that marginalizes its indigenous
cultures.
The women weave their own garments and proudly wear them in La Laguna de
Guadalupe and San Isidro de Morelos, as a part of their cultural heritage handed down to
them by their grandmothers. Today their textiles are not only an external expression of their
indigenous identity, but also by selling them they are able to support their families. Mothers
and daughters rise early in the morning to grind corn on their handmade stone mills 5 and
travel to the nearby municipal markets to sell their tortillas and tamales. 6 After they lost
their land, the men have not always been able to find employment. M exico City has
absorbed many of the Triqui emigrants, by offering them the tasks that no one else will
perform. This has led to depression and alcoholism among many.7
The day I visited with Cecilia Espinoza she was lying in bed, with her long dark
hair, and without her lower limbs. She greeted me with a broad smile. I found her living
in a hut with walls of sticks plastered with mud and a dirt floor. Her humble hut stands
beside the building where the Pentecostés Montes de Sion congregation meets. Her father
lives nearby in another simple dwelling. Across the street there is pasture. Here her brother,
Fernando, lives with his wife, Alejandra, and their daughters in a little house surrounded by
Juxtlahuaca. For more details see: “Triquis/Tinujei”, http:www.aquioaxaca.com/indígenas/ini.htm

4
Ibid.
5
A stone for grinding corn widely used among indigenous peoples in Central America.
6
An interview recorded by the author with Alejandra Bautista Sánchez, San Isidro de Morelos, Oaxaca,
México.
7
An interview recorded by the author with Fernando Espinoza Jiménez, San Isidro de Morelos, Oaxaca,
México, Thursday, March 3, 2005.
Jaim e Adríán Prieto Valladares 115
dogs, chickens, turkeys and a goat. W hile we were talking his elderly father approached us,
dressed in simple clothing, barefoot, and carrying a walking cane in his hand. He greeted
me in Triqui and I soon realized that he was hard of hearing.
W hen his sister began speaking in her native Triqui language I, of course, could
not understand her, but her brother Fernando translated her words into Spanish. Cecilia’s
words sounded to me like the soft murmur of fresh water that flows in their highland
streams. As Cecilia was recounting her story she described a dream, a vision that she had
received that made my hair stand on end and my heart beat faster. As she was speaking I
remembered the words of the prophet Joel (2:28): “Then afterward, I will pour out my spirit
on all flesh; your sons and daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, and
your young men shall see visions.”
Cecilia Espinoza’s Vision

“I dreamed that I was being lifted into the heavens and that my feet were dangling
freely. In my hands I had the Holy Scriptures that shone like the sun. I dreamt that I was
reading from the Holy Scriptures. There was the story of that star filled night when the Lord
Jesus of Nazareth said to Nicodemus: “God loved the world so much that he gave his only
Son, in order that all who believe in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John
3:16). Another of the favorite texts that she read was the confession of longsuffering Job:
“Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I shall return there; the Lord gave, and
the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job. 1:21).
In my vision it sometimes seemed that the earth was opening with terrifying
rumbling and quakes. People ran from one place to another, crying out in great fear. But
I stood there calmly with the W ord in my hand, lifted up toward heaven with my feet
dangling freely below me. I shared with them the W ord and told them not to fear, because
God was with them.
These words reached my people, and the enormous multitude formed itself into a
circle. They came carrying their children in their scarves. The women came dressed in their
red guipiles (garments) with their multi-colored needle work. I kept reading the W ord and
it became alive among the vast crowd of people who kept looking up and listening to the
stories of Yan’anjan 8 the Creator God and the gentle work of Jesus through his parables and
miracles.
The people were harvesting their corn and the nopal9 that serves them as food and
medicine. The flocks of donkeys, goats and sheep covered the hills around La Laguna and
the water in the rivers flowed with great turbulence around the enormous circle of people
that joyfully listened to the words of wisdom coming from the W ord of Life, as I read. We
8
This word refers to God the Creator among the Trique. It is the same word that it used in the Triqui
translation of the Bible.
9
A type of cactus that grows in the vicinity of San Isidro de Morelos.
were all filled with overflowing happiness. And many other peoples, anxious to hear these
life-giving words gathered around the circle.” 10
Pastoral Care
Cecilia’s vision leads us to consider the challenge, not only of preaching the
Gospel, but also the importance of pastoral care with a view to making people whole in our
communities, in our congregations, and in the vicinities in which we share our faith. W e
often need mirrors in order to discern and evaluate the ways in which we carry out our
mission and shape our ecclesiologies. The theological vision of Cecilia Espinoza enables
us, not only to catch a glimpse of the relationship between heaven and earth, but also see the
spirituality that flows from the W ord, and the struggle of our indigenous peoples of mixed
African and indigenous descent for survival. Cecilia’s vision alerts us to the necessity of
caring for our planet, buffeted by warfare, by the destruction of the environment, and by the
unbridled human consumption of its resources. Cecilia’s testimony and vision allows us
to perceive not only the utopian dimension of heaven within our limited earthly context in
which the struggle for personal and collective existence takes place, but also as the context
for pastoral care by which we can touch the woes of our world with truly pastoral healing.
The pastoral care 11 of our co-workers, our communities of faith, our peoples, the
marginalized in our city slums, emigrants and victims of violence, our own bodies, our
families, nature and our ecosystems, must be included before we undertake the task of
reflecting intellectually on our themes. W hen we speak of pastoral care we must recall other
terms in our language like: care of souls, ministry of accompaniment, group ministries,
pastoral care within a culture, pastoral care in time of grief, of sickness and of death. The
theological task,12 seen as reflection on, and as a systematization of, our understanding of
God must be undertaken with tenderness, affection, concern for, and knowing how to care
for others.
Cecilia’s theological vision was preceded by an expression of pastoral care
characterized by tenderness and concern. Coming, as she did, from a very humble
background in a poor indigenous Triqui family, Cecilia began to experience medical
problems with her legs. At eight years of age, she suffered from a disease that left her legs
paralysed and finally it was necessary to amputate them. Years later, in 1977, Claude Good,
a Mennonite Voluntary Service worker, visited her. In addition to visiting her, he provided
10
This is a free version of the author’s interview with Cecilia Espinoza, with a Spanish translation from
the Trique language by Fernando Espinoza, San Isidro de Morelos, Oaxaca, México, Friday, March 4, 2005.
11
For recent materials on “pastoral care” see the following: Julio de Santa Ana, Por las sendas del
mundo caminando hacia el reino, San José: DEI-UBL, 1984. Howard Clinebel, Asesoramiento y cuidado
pastoral, Michigan: Libros Desafío, 1999. Leonardo Boff, Saber cuidar: ético do humano – compaixao pela
terra, Petrópolis: Editora Vozes, Tenth Edition, 2004.
12
On the theologial task see: Sidney Rooy (Comp.), CLADE IV, Presencia cristiana en el mundo
académico, Buenos Aires: Ediciones Kairos, 2001.
her with medicines and vaccinations.13 Claude and his wife Alice Good and their daughters
had arrived in Mexico early in 1960 to live in La Laguna de Guadalupe, 14 a small town near
San Isidro de Morelos. They also worked at translating the Bible into the Triqui language.
Claude kept on visiting Cecilia, in her illness, for a considerable period of time without
talking to her about God. But after some time, Cecilia, intrigued by the gentleness and
compassion of Claude, wanted to know about his understanding of God. In that way, with
the help of the New Testament that had been recently (1966) translated into Triqui,15 Cecilia
began to learn the message of Jesus Christ.
By using the Triqui translation of the New Testament Cecilia Espinoza learned to
write and to read the Bible in her own language. In San Isidro de Morelos Cecilia became
key to the spread of the Bible’s message among her own people and in their own language.
The way in which she went about sharing the Biblical message was this: her family gathered
around her, and seated in her wheel chair, she would tell the stories of the Old and New
Testaments in Triqui. Then the leader, or pastor, of the Triquis would teach from the texts
that she had read, adding further comments on the reading. This went on for many years
since, even though Triqui was the native tongue spoken by all, they were unable to write or
read in their own language.
One of the texts that had embedded itself deeply in Cecilia’s heart was Mark
16
16:15:
The Gospel of Mark 16:15
Trique English
Hue dan ni gataja so’ And he said to them,
Guni’. Nej si, Guij y re’ Go into all the world
Gacha’ xumigui ga’ ui’ nuguna’ an and proclaim the good news
Re’nuguan sa’ a rian daran’ gui. to the whole creation.
This beautiful text reminds us of our Anabaptist tradition expressed in the
preaching of the Austrian evangelist, Hans Hut, in the 16 th century of the Gospel to every
creature.17 In the first place, this was Jesus’ charge to preach the good news in all of the
world and in every language to the creatures who inhabit every geographic region of the
earth. In the second place, we must recognize God’s manifestation in all of nature, since its
13
On the origins of Mennonite Mission work in Mexico see: Kenneth Seitz and Guillermo Zuñiga,
“History of the Evangelical Mennonite Church of the Central Plateau of Mexico,” Unpublished manuscript, 1976.
(Shared with the author by Guillermo Zuñiga.)
14
On the beginnings of the Mennonite work among the Triqui in La Laguna see: Interview with Pascual
Salazar García, recorded by the author, La Laguna, Oaxaca, Mexico, Saturday, March 5, 2005.
15
See: “Nuguan’ naca nagui’ yaj yya Yan’anj and an nga” in El Nuevo Testamento de nuestro Señor
Jesucristo. México D. F.: Sociedad Bíblica de México, Texto en Castellano 1966. Sociedades Bíblicas en America
Latina. Trique de Chicahuaxtla y Español, 1963.
16
See: Nuguan’ naca nagui’ yaj yya Yan’anj anj an nga in: Op. cit., p. 341.
17
Hans Hut was one of the most effective of the Anabaptist evangelists in Moravia in his response to
this text. Hans Hut, together with other martyrs, was burned to death in his cell in 1527, following the Augsburg
Anabaptist Synod. See: Herbert Klassen, “The Life and Teaching of Hans Hut”, (Part I), in: MQR, Vol. XXXIII,
No. 3, July, 1959, p. 171-205.
central message is God’s revelation to every creature and in every creature. That is, to every
creature in whom God has breathed the breath of life. In the third place, the text contains
the notion that creation not only reveals the Creator, but also the divine desire that God’s
will be revealed to all creation.
The Great Commission in Mark’s Gospel (16:15) takes on a special dimension
when we remember that the text has an imperative, “Go”, and the one who recites it and
accepts its authority for her life, has no feet for going. In spite of her physical limitations,
due to the loss of her limbs and her poverty, Cecilia is an example of how God can use any
of us in service. W ith her hands she not only has woven beautiful multicolored garments
in the tradition of her ancestors, but they have handled over and over the Biblical texts. This
is what her brother Fernando pointed out when he said: “My sister Cecilia has read and
shared the gospel so continuously with so many people that she has in recent years worn out
three New Testaments. She is actually using her fourth New Testament.” 18
Today we marvel at Cecilia’s theological vision, but we need to reiterate that it is
only with pastoral gentleness that we can grow in our deep desire to share God’s great good
news with students, professors, lay people, pastors and members of our churches. By this
we do not intend to accentuate the role of academia in our understanding of reality through
the social sciences, economics, hermeneutics or the study of the Biblical languages or
medicine, but that these must all be subordinated to our capacity for compassionate caring.
W ithout this, without that pastoral gentleness, we pastors as God’s creatures, will not be able
to fully proclaim the will of God to our fellow humans.
The Vision from Heaven: God’s Caring and Human Pain

Cecilia’s life is so surprising because, without any formal education, and in spite
of the poverty in which she has lived right up to the present, she was the key person,
together with her brother Cornelio Espinoza, Pascual Salazar García, Isidro Salazar García
and Claude Good, that made it possible to translate and publish, in 1984, a version of the
Old Testament,19 called Si-Nuguan’ Yan’anj Xangá.
Returning to her vision, we note two dimensions: that of heaven and that of the
earth. In her vision she found herself in the heavenly plane where she had recovered the
limbs that she lost in childhood. She was the one who had the W ord of God in her hands
to proclaim it message to surrounding peoples. W hat I find astonishing in her vision is its
heavenly dimension, that when she opened the W ord for the first time it was to remind all
of God’s unlimited kindness and great love, loving us to the point of being willing to send
his only Son in order that we might have fullness of life, eternal life. The first textbook with
18
From an interview with Fernando Espinoza, op. cit.
19
Si-Nuguan’ Yan’anj Xangá, Resúmen del Antiguo Testamento en Triqui de Chicahuaxtla y en
español. Published for the American Bible Society by: W.H.B.L. Liga del Sembrador A.C. Illustrations used with
permission of the United Bible Societies and David C. Cook Foundation. First edition, 1984.
which Cecilia learned to read in her own Triqui language was the New Testament.
Beginning in 1977, when Cecilia Espinoza first began to read and to understand
the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ in Triqui, until 1984 when she collaborated on the first
abbreviated edition of the Old Testament in Triqui, the stories that her people heard from
Cecilia’s lips were of, and about, Jesus. W e can say that Cecilia, moved by the mercy of
God and by her reading of the New Testament, came to understand, just as the Apostol Paul
and Menno Simons20 had, that Jesus Christ is the foundation of incarnation and the dazzling
grace of God toward all humanity and creation. The stories of Jesus found their way deep
into her heart, above all because the Gospel shows us the great love of the Son of God.
Jesus of Nazareth, who walked along the paths of Galilee teaching the Gospel of the
Kingdom, healing all manner of diseases among the people. Cecilia Espinoza came to know
Jesus of Nazareth, and she identified with the one whose fame spread throughout all Syria.
And the Holy Scriptures tell us that they brought to him all who were afflicted with disease
and all sorts of sickness, the demon possessed, lunatics, epileptics and paralytics (Mat. 4:23-
25).
Her second reading of the W ord is no less impressive. Cecilia identified with Job,
the patient sufferer of the Old Testament. The text of Job 1:21, written by her very hands
in the Triqui language takes on deep significance. “Naked I came from my mother’s womb,
and naked I shall return there; the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the
name of the Lord.” In the first part of the text we find hidden the existential agony that
Cecilia Espinoza suffered for many years: her childhood, her birth into a large poverty-
stricken family. W e note that Cecilia, just as Job had done, recognized that life proceeds
from God. Life’s greatest miracle is life itself. But Cecilia experienced physical pain in her
body, and just as Job had, she remembers the fragility of life. “A mortal, born of woman,
few of days and full of trouble, comes up like a flower and withers, flees like a shadow and
does not last.” (Job 14:1-2)
In her memory there were the difficult years of childhood, brought on by the
extreme pain in her limbs. She recalls sleepless nights, the throbbing pain in her legs that
racked her little body. She remembers the blankets on her bed, damp with perspiration from
her fevers and hot tears. She recalls peeking through the cracks in the walls of the hut as she
watched the neighbor children feeding grains of corn to the chickens. W hy must I suffer so,
while my brothers and sisters run after the butterflies among the wild flowers? How much,
oh God, would I like to play without pain! How much, oh God, would I like to run with the
20
The foundational writing of Menno Simons bears the title, “Dat Fundament des Christelycken leers”
and was first published in 1539-40. It should be pointed out that for both, Jesus Christ is the foundation for faith,
Menno Simons in the context of a medieval hermeneutic that emphasized following Jesus in the light of God’s
wrath, and Cecilia in her vision that emphasizes the kindness and gentleness of God. On the concept of
discipleship in Menno, see: Marjan Blok, “Discipleship in Menno Simons’ Dat Fundament: An Exercise in
Anabaptist Theology”, in: Gerald R. Brunk, ed. Menno Simons: A Reappraisal: Essays in honor of Irvin B. Horst
on the 450th Anniversary of the Fundamentboek, Virginia: Eastern Mennonite College, 1992, p. 103-129.
other little girls in the neighborhood! These were the questions and the exclamations, ever
present in Cecilia’s life that led her to identify with the suffering of Job.
Cecilia’s years of physical prostration bring to mind, just like Job, our pain and our
diseases and the fragility of our own lives. Storms and hurricanes tear off the roofs, destroy
our crops, blow down the trees, ruin the levees, and take their toll of victims. There are
times in our lives when disease comes and pain lays our loved ones low, when they, and
sometimes we, lose a member of our body. There are special moments in our lives when
disease attacks, leaving us wounded and hurting. Death also comes unexpectedly and
sometimes snatches away those with whom we have shared our lives and love for so many
years. Right now we can remember our pain and suffering at the loss of loved ones. W e
remember family members and friends, sick and wasted by the human fragility we all share.
In our seminaries and theological institutions, in our communities and in our churches we
need to remember to care for one another. I speak of an attitude that must arise out of the
depths of our hearts causing us to show kindness in response to the loving gentleness God.
Our institutions of learning may be able to help us better interpret Job’s text with
the help of the Hebrew. Good Biblical and theological commentaries may help us to
understand better the debates over the themes of retribution and the meaning of evil, or to
better analyse the figure of the Leviathan. Sciences such as psychology may help us develop
techniques for counseling and caring for the sick and grieving. But first we must allow the
Holy Spirit to put on us the seal of gentleness, moving us to compassion and solidarity with
the suffering.
In Latin America we carry out our theological reflection and pastoral care in a
context characterized by the discouragement of our youth, violence toward our children,21
women, and the elderly, social and economic injustices, premature deaths, and the spread
of AIDS, natural catastrophes, the destruction of the natural environment, the increase of
disease in epidemic proportions and accidents of all kinds. For this reason I have
emphasized the heavenly dimension of Cecilia’s vision and the challenge to be kind and
gentle toward others, just as God is with us.
The Vision from the Earth: Earthquakes and Tempests

The second dimension of Cecilia’s vision revealed what was happening to those
who are below. The first thing that catches our attention is the terror and fear that takes hold
of people because of the earthquakes, opening up wide cracks in the earth. I think that
Cecilia’s vision has lots to tell us about the realities of our time as we experience natural
21
In Brazil every four minutes a person is wounded by firearms, every 15 minutes a person dies as the
result of firearms. In the State of Rio de Janeiro alone en the year 2004, a total of 6,438 persons died the victims
of firearms. Many of the dead are young persons and children. This has led the Brazilian government to call for
a popular referendum on October 23, 2005 in order for the people themselves to decide if arms and munitions
sales should be prohibited in Brazil. See: Chico Octavio e Elenilce Bottari, “Uma morte a cada 15 minutos” in:
O Globo, Year LXXXI, No. 26,347, Sunday, September 25, 2005, p. 18-20.
disasters happening one after another. Hurricane Mitch went through Central America in
the decade of the 90s leaving the area completely destroyed with the resulting economic
setback still being felt in a region, which was already poverty stricken. Later, El Salvador
was impacted by an earthquake that displaced many poor families in 2001. In recent years
Jamaica, Cuba and other parts of the Caribbean have been devastated by hurricanes,
torrential rains and tidal waves. The images of devastation caused by the Tsunami tidal
wave in December, 2004, are still fresh in our minds. W hole towns were destroyed in Asia,
and we still don’t know just how many perished from this catastrophe.
The hurricanes, Katrina and Rita, are the most recent of these catastrophic events
to affect North Americans. W ithout pity they wiped out large areas in New Orleans and left
cities along the M ississippi coastal area 22 devastated. Areas in Texas and Louisiana 23 were
also seriously affected. W hile U. S troops were occupying the city of Baghdad, people of
African and Hispanic descent waited in desperation, in the midst of their ruined houses and
businesses, hoping that helicopters and medical personnel might come to their rescue.
People ran about filled with fear and terror in the devastated city of New Orleans, just as
Cecilia had seen in her vision. All nature is reacting to the great climate changes brought
on by humanity’s warfare, destruction of forests, contamination of the environment and the
break-up of the protective layer of ozone. Just like the text in Romans says, it seems that
the whole creation is groaning with labor pains, awaiting our liberation (8:22-23).
Earthquakes and hurricanes destroy everything in their paths, but they also reveal
the injustices of those governments that have never been interested in conserving the
ecological equilibrium, nor for the welfare of the impoverished people of their nations.
Interested more in keeping its troops in the occupied cities of Iraq, Bush’s government was
indifferent in the face of Katrina, even knowing ahead of time what would happen. And not
only that: the suspicions of the parents of black soldiers who fight the wars dictated by
W ashington soon surfaced. W hen they were most in need of understanding and help, they
were being left behind by a nation preoccupied with its wild dash to prosperity. It is like
the New York Times reporter recalled, just as it was with the sinking of the Titanic, the
richest and the most powerful were the ones who were the first to be saved. 24 In her first
vision, Cecilia saw terrified people crying out and running from one place to another.
W idespread terror and outcries were also a part of the tragic scenes emanating from the city
devastated by Katrina. The hurricane force winds destroyed everything in their path.
Shopkeepers with guns in their hands kept potential thieves from ransacking their stores.
22
José Meirelles Passos, “A devastacao de Katrina. Cidades fantasmas no Mississippi,” in: O Globo,
Year LXXXI, Second Edition, Sunday, September 4, 2005, p. 36.
23
Lake Charles, “A devastacao de Rita. A Ameaca das aguas. Furacao atinge fronteira de Texas e
Louisiana com ventos de 200 km/h, chuvas e mare alta,” in: O Globo, Year LXXXI, Sunday, September 25, 2005,
p. 41.
24
Joseph E. Stiglitz, “Licoes de Tsunami negra,” in: O Globo, Year LXXXI, No., 26,347, Sunday,
September 25, 2005, p. 7.
Children were pictured wading among scattered objects in their homes. Streets, filled with
up to six feet of water, were turned into lagoons. Youths roamed the streets carrying with
them merchandize taken from the flooded stores. Thousands of homeless persons crowded
into the Superdome and the Convention Center. The refugees reported that soldiers were
shooting at innocent youths. The call-up of 50,000 reservists to protect private property
from pillaging and restore a semblance of order in the midst of the chaos came late. 25 As
Thomas Hobbes had written in 165l, in his book, Leviathan, the absence of the authority of
the state leads to the breakup of society, leaving survivors at the mercy of their fellow
humans. The scenes of vandalism and violence which the people of New Orleans lived
through also remind one of the Ensayo sobre la ceguera (Essay on Blindness) by the
Portuguese author, José Saramago, in which an epidemic of blindness thrust a city into
chaos, due to the lack of order and official direction. This in turn led to vandalism and
unchecked acts of violence which finally ended up in a state of open warfare. In a city with
a history of slavery and racial discrimination the hurricane unmasked these social
inequalities and the blindness of the Bush administration.26
W hen we are overwhelmed by natural catastrophes we tend to think of God. Is
God present with us, or absent from us, in these disasters? In times of great natural disasters
many lose what they have, and sometimes even their lives. It is especially the poor who are
the most affected. Be it in the Caribbean, in Central America or in the United States, the
poorest and the least protected are the ones who suffer most from earthquakes and
hurricanes. People of African descent in the southern states, whose story has been told in
American films like Mississippi in Flames, by Alan Parker, or The Color Purple, a reference
to the “exotic” and to the “other” 27, are the victims of Hurricane Katrina; and their culture,
found in their music, literature, films and culinary arts, is threatened.28
Earthquakes and hurricanes are ways in which nature expressed itself. Katrina has
revealed the insensitivity of the Bush administration. Two hundred seventy-one schools
have been closed or damaged and more than 135,000 students in Louisiana, 40,000 students
in M ississippi, and 35,000 students in Alabama are without classrooms. The dramatic
scenes on the streets and the surrounding area in New Orleans exposed the lack of
preparation, the inefficiency and the slow response of the Federal Emergency Management
Administration, the National Guard and the Army Corps of Engineers in the United States.
The National Guard should have been ready to come to the aid of the people of New
25
“Depois da tragedia, a barbarie,” in: Jornal Extra, Rio da Janeiro, Friday, September 2, 2005, p. 11.
26
Renato Galeano, “Depois da tragedia, a degradacao da alma humana,” in: O Globo, Year LXXXI,
Second Edition, Sunday, September 4, 2005, p. 39.
27
See: Jaime Biaggio, “Un lugar mais mítico do que real,” in: O Globo, Year LXXXI, Sunday,
September 18, 2005, p. 39.
28
See: Jamari Franca, “Um fusao única de culturas no berco do jazz,” in: O Globo, Year LXXXI,
Second Edition, Sunday, September 4, 2005, p. 38. Antonio Carlos Miguel, “Cultura, a vítima silenciosa do
furacao,” in: O Globo, Year LXXXI, Sunday, September 18, 2005, p. 39.
Orleans, rather than occupying Iraq. At least a considerable part of the people of the United
States would see it this way, knowing that the reconstruction of New Orleans will cost at
least one hundred billion dollars, about the same as the United States spends on the Iraq war
in six months.29
In the context of his protest to the princes who were persecuting the Anabaptists
in the 16 th century, Menno Simons said: “Stand in awe of Him who encloses the heavens and
the earth in the palm of His hand, who sends forth the fiery shafts of His lightning, the blasts
of the tempests, and makes the mountains to shake, who rules all things with the W ord of
His power, before whom every knee shall bow of things in heaven and things in earth and
things under the earth, and to whom every tongue shall confess that He is the Lord.” 30
W hen we compare Cecilia Espinoza’s vision concerning earthquakes and natural
disasters with that of M enno Simons we find notable similarities. Both refer to the lordship
of God over all creation, even when the lightening flashes and tempests roar, causing the
mountains to quake. In the second place, both see catastrophes and quakes as a way of
relativizing all human claims to power and glory. Third, natural disasters reveal our human
fragility in the face of the forces of nature. And finally, in the fourth place, in Cecilia’s
vision, as well as in Menno’s, there is a dynamic relationship between heaven and earth: the
Creator’s will, in the midst of quakes and hurricanes, is present in the W ord.
In the earthly dimension of the vision we note again an emphasis on gentleness and
tenderness in caring for one another as the fundamental element that joins it to the heavenly
dimension of the vision. W hile she is above, Cecilia’s limbs are restored, and with the
W ord in her hand she comforts her people, speaking to them words of assurance in times of
anxiety and fear. W hen the love of God is poured out like the sun from the W ord they
detract Cecilia’s attention away from herself, and she hears the cries of the terrified people
on the earth. She stands in heaven with her limbs restored, with the W ord of God in her
hands, and now her voice, like rays from the sun, reaches the earth to comfort her people.
Her voice is heard in that great circle of humanity telling them not to fear because God is
with them. The upper and lower dimensions of her vision appear to embrace each other by
the power of solidarity and comfort.
Out of her personal experience of physical suffering, out of her identification with
suffering Job, out of her encounter with Jesus of Nazareth and the God of life, out of a heart
filled with tender kindness, Cecilia’s actions of compassionate solidarity flow out to those
filled with terror and fear in a broken world. Cecilia’s vision recalls the prayer which
Menno once prayed in solidarity with those who, in his own time, suffered in their broken
29
Helena Celestino, “Bush enfrenta o desafío Katrina,. Recuperacao de Nova Orleans deve custar o
mesmo que seis meses de guerra no Iraque,” in: O Globo, Year LXXXI, Second Edition, Sunday, September 4,
2005, p. 37.
30
John C. Wenger, ed. The Complete Writings of Menno Simons, c.1496 – 1561, Scottdale: Herald
Press, 1974, p. 612-613.
world:
“Do not forsake me gracious Lord, for trees of deepest root are torn up
by the roots by the violence of the storm, and lofty, firm mountains are
rent asunder by the force of the earthquake. Did not Job and Jeremiah,
dear men of Thy love, stumble in temptation, murmur against Thy will?
Suffer me not, therefore, gracious Lord, to be tempted above that I am
able to bear, for Thou art faithful and good, lest my soul be shamed. I
pray not for my flesh, being well aware that it must suffer and die in time,
but this alone I ask: Strengthen me in warfare; assist and keep me; make
a way for me to escape in temptation; deliver me, and let me not be put
to shame, for I put my trust in Thee.” 31
The Vision from the Earth: The Life-Giving and Comforting W ord
W hat is the mission of the church in the midst of tragedy and human suffering
caused by natural disasters? Our word, in the midst of tragedy and suffering caused by
earthquakes and hurricanes must be a message of hope, a caring voice of understanding and
kindness. In Cecilia’s vision her voice was that of the W ord of G od. T herefore it was a
voice that brought comfort to those suffering from the brokeness of the earth. In the
experience of Mennonite communities, our theology and our practice of peace have grown
out of the love with which God has taught us to share through compassionate action. In the
case of the Caribbean and Central America, the Mennonite Central Committee has served
as a living expression of loving kindness that flows out precisely in those times of greatest
need among the peoples suffering the effects of natural disasters.
It is important to remember that precisely these disasters has often been the
occasions for closely linking North American M ennonites with their sisters and brothers in
the Caribbean and in Central America by extending their hands in solidarity and sharing a
message of true peace. One of the early expressions of this was the concern of Orie O.
Miller, who was then the Executive Secretary of the Mennonite Central Committee, for the
welfare of the Haitian people affected by hurricane Hazel in 1954. It was this sense of
solidarity, recorded in his diary in January, 1955, that led to the conjoint work of the
Mennonite Central Committee and the Missionary Church Association in 1957, and
volunteers were sent to Haiti for service in the fields of health and agriculture. Later the
Island of Haiti would be devastated by Hurricane Flora in O ctober, 1963, when 1,500 to
4,000 persons died or disappeared. This was followed by Hurricane Inez in September,
1966. 32 The M ennonite Central Committee again responded in compassionate solidarity
growing out of a practical understanding of the W ord that brings spiritual healing to hearts
31
Ibid., p. 82.
32
Following Hurricane Inez, the Mennonite Disaster Service (MDS) and the Mennonite Central
Committee (MCC) worked together in the construction of houses for victims in Cotes de Fer and Marigot. Eldon
Stoltzfus, “Haiti”, in: C. J. Dyck and Dennis D. Martin (ed.), The Mennonite Encyclopedia, Vol. V, Scottdale:
Herald Press, 1990, p. 360-361.
and puts a roof over the heads of families without shelter.33

In Cecilia’s vision we noted the gestures of loving kindness that join heaven to
earth when she said: “I read the W ord and it took on life among all that great multitude of
people who were looking up and listening to the stories of Yan’anjan, the Creator God and
the gentle acts of Jesus in his parables and miracles.” In Central America, in the midst of
the terrible earthquakes that filled the city of Managua with terror and death in 1972,
Guatemala, in 1976, and El Salvador, in 2001, we can say that we have heard the stories of
the Creator God and the gentle acts of loving kindness shown by Mennonite sisters and
brothers. In 1998, Hurricane M itch destroyed Tegucigalpa, in Honduras, and a large part
of the city of Managua, in Nicaragua, leaving in its path of destruction, death and
impoverishment throughout Central America. W ith acts of compassion and loving kindness
Mennonite sisters and brothers, through their churches and M ennonite Central Committee,
came to our aid with food, clothing and shelter for many families who had been left without
resources.
This is the true message of a peace that is built, not motivated by self-interests, or
by those politically based interests in the restoration of a faded image. Rather, it is the power
that flows from the parables and the miracles of love. A true theology of peace is interested
in doing acts of loving kindness for the healing of broken bodies, with prayer, with the
W ord, and in concrete expressions of compassionate solidarity. I am certain that the same
acts of tender loving care that Cecilia saw in her vision continue to find expression today
in the efforts to aid those victims affected by Katrina and Rita. And here I think of the
families of African descent, the Hispanics and the most impoverished families in New
Orleans, Louisiana and Texas.
Between Heaven and Earth: The Care of Humanity and the Planet
Is it possible that we have been leaving to one side the practice of love in our
outdated missiological and ecclesiological models that don’t really work and are largely
loveless in their concrete expressions in the life of our peoples? Have we forgotten the
loving kindness that really cares about people in need of a spirituality ignited by the fire of
the Holy Spirit? In the vision of Cecilia Espinoza, there was on the earthly plane a large
circle made up of many peoples involved in the struggles of daily existence. It is not a
pyramid. It is a circle and it is an expression of the wholeness of relationships among
persons, creatures and the natural universe.
Through their labor, humans interact with natural creation in order to survive.
Humanity, using the power of the intellect, seeks to understand the secrets of nature. Thanks
to our materialistic understandings of work, we have created the mechanical and electronic
machines that support modern society. In this process we humans are losing our admiration,
33
Elaine Stoltzfus, Tending the Vision, Planting the Seed. A History of the Mennonite Central
Committee in Haiti, 1958-1984, No date or place of publication., p. 12-14, 104-107.
veneration and affection for nature.

The great challenge that faces us is how to unite our work with our caring, how to
bring together our material dimension and our spirituality. W e must avoid the danger of
enslavement to our work that has been depersonalized, rationalized and subjected to the
logic of computation and the machine. W e dare not allow our work to take away from us
the loving kindness of true solidarity. W e are not machines. W e think. W e show
compassion to those who suffer. W e are able to unite with one another through acts of
kindness toward those who suffer, but we can also rejoice with each other in the enjoyment
of God’s rich gifts to us in creation.34
To what point are electronic networks the only means that connect us? If they are
to have a mobilizing power like that which led to the rise of the Zapatista M ovement, it will
be because they communicated a message of loving kindness and solidarity toward our
sisters and brothers in Chiapas! W e tend to lose sight of the fact that we participate in the
same universe, the universe of our sister nature, irradiated to us through God’s life giving
sun. W e will often have to push to one side those mountains of paperwork that have piled
up on our desks, or that endless collection of books, so that we can join together with our
indigenous sisters and brothers and peasants who struggle to conserve their sources of water
and their right to live.
If there is something to be found in Cecilia’s vision, it is surely her respect for
nature. The community’s rituals (Nua’nugua’aj) that are celebrated before planting their
corn, squash and beans, as well as the ceremonies connected with their harvests, speak to
us of a dimension of life of which we still have much to learn. To undertake mission is to
be willing to care for all those creatures in which God has instilled the breath of life. W hen,
in these indigenous communities, permission is requested of the earth to plant the grains that
will grow, thanks to the rain and sun that a gracious Yan’anjan will send, we note a concern
to be caring, a concern to be gentle with nature. In Cecilia’s vision we see that we dare not
be insensitive toward nature; that we are called to love and to respect her.
W e must recognize that every human being is simply a part of that innumerable
multitude of living beings, all created by the same God. W e are in need of a new way to
care for and to organize life on our planet. The natural disasters that are affecting the entire
world are indications of the disorder that humankind has brought to the ecosystem. Inspired
by our materialistic view of life, we have created machines to monopolize production at the
cost of our environment. W e ignore the role played by the fields sown with corn and beans
and squash, the donkeys in La Laguna de Morelos, the streams and rivers of the Chiapas
plateau, the star-studded milky way and human sensitivity and harmony. W e must return
to the spirituality reflected in Cecilia’s vision in order to get in touch with the world we
inhabit, so that our world can also come into communion with us.
34
For more on the notion of caring see: Leonardo Boff, Saber cuidar. Etica do humano – compaixao
pela terra, Petropolis: Editora Vozes, Tenth edition, 2004.
The final picture we find painted in Cecilia’s vision reminds us of the New
Jerusalem, seen by John the Revelator in the shining light of God’s sun of righteousness
(Rev. 22:1-5). Central to the concept of discipleship in the Anabaptist tradition was life in
community. In this vision, we are also faced by the ecclesiological challenge to life in
community. Life in this larger community is inclusive and must extend beyond the
boundaries of our ecclesial and organizational structures as Mennonites.
The question facing us is how we can get on with the task of reconnecting (religio)
ourselves to God and God to us? How will we move forward with the task of reconnecting
with nature and allowing nature to do the same with us? How can we broaden the
missionary task and our ecumenical relationships in such a way that our understanding of
the changes that God is bringing to our planet will be an occasion for us to collaborate with
other cultural, ecclesial, and organizational traditions, with other spiritual movements, as
well as movements within our civic societies, who are concerned about our enslavement to
a materialistic view of work, the threats that hang over humanity, the ecological and macro
economic desequilibrium on our planet, and our mindless state of warfare? It is important
to catch the vision. But when it comes it will also be important to share it with others,
making this vision of God a reality in our midst.
Cecilia’s utopian vision ends by summing up the immense joy of those who, as a
community, work at caring for the environment God has created. We also see this
communal dimension in the Triqui people in their daily work and in their corn planting. The
vision of the human community under the irradiating sunlight of the W ord in an environment
in which joy abounds is utopian. Her vision is open to the utopia that binds heaven to earth.
From heaven the sun of God’s compassionate love and tender kindness, shines with the
warmth of God’s W ord. God’s life giving message comes to us within God’s first book –
nature. It also come to us through God’s second book - the W ord.
Conclusion
Today we seek to recover the vision of our Triqui sister, the meaning of co-
existence among ourselves and with nature, as well as with our environment. Yan’anjan, the
Creator God of Cecilia Espinoza must come and restore us in a new kind of mission, and fill
our hearts with the sun of the W ord. It is my hope that Cecilia’s vision will inspire us, as
a community of the followers of Jesus, and that Yan’anjan will fill us with a tender and
loving kindness, as gentle as the dew that falls during those star-studded nights that wrap
San Isidro de Morelos and La Laguna de Guadalupe.
M ENNONITES AND M ISSION IN EURASIA
W alter Sawatsky
Too M any M isconceptions

Eurasia became the new “whitened unto harvest” mission field after the great
transformation of 1989. No where else in the world did evangelical mission societies
cooperate as extensively, raise so much money ($60 million), and send so many workers
(nearly 2000) in the space of a mere half decade. It was also a failure of major proportions. 1
Evangelical missions must now shoulder the blame for the subsequent xenophobic reaction
against western, especially American missions, for the troubled relationships with existing
free churches in the former Soviet Union regions, and even the renewed visa difficulties of
recent years. Many of the missions to Eurasia drew notice because of the singularly poorly
trained workers, who arrived with very minimal knowledge of the historic past and of the
great test of faith so many believers had been through. This contrasted sharply with the
reputation for broad experience that those established mission societies had gained
elsewhere in the globe. The primary factor accounting for this unfortunate story, was the
degree to which attitudes and information had been framed ideologically: the iron curtain
had fallen, communism had been defeated by the good W est, and now the Christianization
of Russia would start.
How were the Mennonites implicated? Have there been mission initiatives worth
reporting and pondering, worth learning from? The analytical survey that follows seeks to
examine Mennonite patterns with an awareness of the larger picture.
One of the misconceptions too often encountered is that the post-Reformation
Mennonites from north Europe who had moved eastward and became the Russian
Mennonites after 1789 promised not to do mission. They kept their promise and it was their
downfall, so the misconception. So when Viktor Fast as spokesperson for the Russian
Mennonite delegation to the 1990 Mennonite W orld Conference in Winnipeg, Canada stated
that “we Russian Mennonites have sinned” for not having shared the Gospel with the
neighbor, parts of his audience had the misconception reinforced. Fast was in fact
1
Of the critical reviews that have recently appeared, the most theologically and missiologically helpful
is Donald Fairbairn “Book Review: Glanzer, Perry L. The Quest for Russia’s Soul: Evangelicals and Moral
Education in Post-Communist Russia. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2002.”, Religion in Eastern Europe,
Volume XXIII, Number 5, October 2003, 51-58.
Walter Sawatsky, Professor of Church History & M ission at AMBS, and Director of its
Mission Studies Center, is also East/West Consultant for MCC, teaching and traveling to
East Europe and the former Soviet Union semi-annually. This paper was presented as a
substitute for a number of new missiologists of Anabaptist orientation in the region who had
hoped to attend the conference held in Elkhart.

W alter Sawatsky 129
announcing major new mission initiatives, many of which continue to the present, because
after a 60 year legal prohibition against missionary work, they were now hoping to enjoy
freedom of religion. During those 60 years missionary activities were greatly circumscribed,
but many of the martyrs suffered precisely because of their missionary work. It was after all
the witness of the believers of Soviet Russia, that accounted for the widespread desire to
explore Christian faith everyone was talking about in 1989. Rather consistently the reports
about Mennonites in Russian imperial and Soviet state archives complained about their
missionary tendencies. 2
M issionary Defined
Here I will limit myself to two meanings of missionary for Russian Mennonites and
fellow evangelicals. On the one hand, their entire life as religious and cultural community
was known by the rest of the population as formed by their faith. They refused to serve in
the military, instead found ways to do alternative service that led to the organizing of whole
person ministries. Others kept moving further east on the Russian imperial frontier, or later
fled to parts of Siberia and Central Asia in order to escape religious persecution. So the
witness of their community became known in those regions as well. Already in the Ukraine,
their habit of gathering for Bible study, as did other pietist colonists, is widely regarded as
stimulating the birth of the Stundist movement, which became a major part of what is more
generally known as the Evangelical Christian-Baptists. Today, after more than a decade of
learning to know what a Baptist is supposed to believe and think, according to the brand of
the missionary they encountered, those Evangelical Christian-Baptists are more consciously
affirming a theology and practice rather close to Anabaptist-Mennonites, including the bias
toward pacifism. No where in Eurasia did Mennonites organize separate Bible schools or
seminaries, rather those from Germany and N orth America who became involved in
teaching missions tended to work in support of the newly formed schools.
The other more obvious meaning of ‘missionary’ has to do with organized outreach
ministries. Even though Russian Mennonite historical studies are not yet as comprehensive
as they could be, we do know that the network of associations with pietist missions learned
in Poland/Prussia continued in Russia. The settlers needed time to get established, but Bible
society activity involved Mennonites as early as 1813, later the Baptist missionary society
in Britain that drew support among Dutch Mennonites, also had contacts with the Russians.
By the 1860s the first foreign missionaries followed Dutch Mennonites to Indonesia -
Russian M ennonites continuing to send and support workers into the 1920s, and the last
Russian origin missionaries ended their work when W orld W ar 2 ended the mission work
2
For details, see Walter Sawatsky, “Mennonite Sectarians in the Eyes of Russian/Soviet Authorities:
What the Official Archives Reveal”, in Daniel Heinz & Denis A Sdvizhkov, eds. Postizhenie ideala: Iz istorii
mirotvorchestva I intelligentsii. Sbornik pamiati T. A. Pavlovoi. Moscow: Institute of General History, Russian
Academy of Sciences, 2005, 93-117 [in Russian].
130 Mennonites and Mission in Eurasia
in Indonesia. The newly organized Mennonite Brethren were more noticeably active in local
outreach, several of their number were key leaders in the new Slavic Baptist union, first
formed in 1884. There were also ties to mission in India, and the eventual taking on of
churches in the Hyderabad region from the Baptists was due to the Russian connection.
According to Hans Kasdorf’s broad review of this story, 3 the MB and M ennonite churches
were discussing mission theory by the late 1860s, notably the degree to which missiology
and ecclesiology belonged together, or whether the point was to preach for conversions and
leave church formation and nurture to be resolved situationally. By 1910 formerly divided
Mennonite conferences were cooperating, and during the general evangelical growth spurt
of the 1920s, Mennonites shared in evangelistic ministries with traveling tents, organized
Bible schools, fostered Bible and other publications through Raduga Press. Also in the
1920s there were attempts to reach indigenous tribes in Siberia and Kyrgyzstan, including
some Bible translation attempts.
W hen most forms of life and witness were forcibly suppressed after 1930,
Mennonites went through their greatest testing. W hen church life began to recover after the
ravages of W orld W ar II, the revival story among the Soviet Evangelicals featured many
Mennonite preachers, including women organizing churches or keeping the fellowship going
after ordained men had been arrested. 4 Many families were separated during the forced
relocations of Germans, resulting in some children left alone in Kyrgiz and Kazakh villages
to survive with the help of merciful local tribes. Such family relationships later influenced
the ways in which witness among Kazakh and Kyrgiz people became possible. W hen a new
period of state repression of religion under Khrushchev began around 1959, precipitating
a split in the evangelical community, the dissident and more missionary wing revealed a
disproportionately high number of M ennonites. M ost prominent was Georgi Vins, but the
structures of the Council of Churches of Evangelical Christians-Baptists (CCECB), the
regional bodies in Karaganda oblast, Kazakhstan, in Slavgorod Siberia, around Novosibirsk,
and in Kyrgyzstan were dominated by persons from the Mennonite community. W hen
Friedensstimme Mission emerged in the late 1970s in Germany as arm of assistance to the
CCECB in the USSR, virtually all the key leaders were “Mennonite”. True, by then, they
had learned to denigrate the AUCECB churches and the Mennonites for a lower order of
piety, but that sectarian predilection could be seen to reveal a common Mennonite trait.
New M ission Initiatives After the Great Transformation

The freedom to be missionary was claimed by many groups and individuals several
3
Hans Kasdorf, Flammen unauslöschlich. Mission der Mennoniten unter Zaren und Sowjets 1789-
1989. Bielefeld: Logos Verlag, 1991. See especially 102-12.
4
For illustrations see Soviet Evangelicals, chapter 2. Hilfskomitee Aquila published the 50th
anniversary celebration of liberation from the Kommandantur system in August 2005, detailed histories appeared
in Aquila magazine pp 18-31, including a detailed biography of evangelist Peter Engbrecht (Viktor Fast, “Peter
Engbrecht (1908-1977) - Ein berufener Prediger”, Aquila, 3/05 (Juli-September 2005) 23-24.
years before it was legally permitted. The most active were the Charity societies that sprang
up in the second half of 1988, the Millennium year of Christianity in Russia. Their style,
epitomized by the Latvian Christian Mission, was acts of charity in giving relief to the poor,
visiting shutins, starting youth centers to counter the drug culture, and organize evangelism
meetings - usually in the guise of a celebration of the millennium - in order to introduce a
seeking public to Jesus Christ. These were broadly ecumenical mass evangelism events.
Those millennium celebrations could not be stopped on December 31, but continued into
1989.
W ell, 1989 was also the year for the 200th anniversary of the Russian M ennonites.
It was the independent Mennonites (Kirchliche), independent Mennonite Brethren, and
Mennonites within the Ev. Christians-Baptist churches of Karaganda, Kazakhstan who came
to Zaporozh’e Ukraine and negotiated permission to celebrate their bi-centennial. By the
time Mennonites in America learned about these plans, the regional ECB union in
Zaporozh’e had already circulated fliers to every resident, not only in the city of Zaporozhe,
and we had to scramble to do our part together with Mennonites in Germany to get the truck
load of Bibles to the stadium in time for the event. Many have seen the event as depicted in
Peter J. Dyck’s Dreams and Nightmares video, fifteen minutes of historical reflection, and
an hour of gospel preaching (by Viktor Hamm’s father Gerhard) and singing to an audience
of 10,000. As late as a decade later I still met people whose life had changed through that
event.
Later such millennium celebrations in Omsk, Orenburg and Karaganda itself,
marked the start of a continuing process of evangelistic outreach. By 1992 the first euphoria
was past, but the methodology of evangelistic meetings in large halls, or using a tent when
traveling from village to village throughout the summer has continued to the present, though
with steadily decreasing returns. One of the most prominent Mennonite involvements
developed when Viktor Hamm, for a decade already a radio preacher in Russian, became
the translator for the Billy Graham visit and then played a leading role in the organization
of Vozrozhdenie (Revival) as part of an ongoing training in evangelism. Hamm remained
with the Billy Graham organization to overseee such training initiatives, until he became
overseas director for MBMSI in spring of 2005.
Mennonites had long had a reputation as more organized and systematic when
compared to Ukrainian and Russian colleagues. So it was not a surprise that in Kyrgyzstan
and Kasakhstan (particularly the Karaganda and Shchuchinsk oblasty) the mass evangelism
method soon shifted to an every home approach. But it was not unique to the Mennonites
and they invariably worked cooperatively with other Evangelicals. In the ECB Unions of
Kazakhstan and Kyrgyzstan the leadership from 1990 to the present has been Mennonite,
with Frants Tissen and Heinrich Vot the most prominent, respectively. Tissen in Kazkhstan
organized a five year plan for church members to visit every home, and every few years
organized a mission conference where vigorous preaching to inspire calls to commitment,
and testimonials from the field, sustained the high energy of their work. In Kyrgyzstan, a
mission named Ray of Hope, which had already engaged in cross-cultural and multi-
linguistic work during the Soviet years, was now fully absorbed into the ECB union, then
became the bridge through which Kyrgyz congregations and the mixed Ukrainian, Russian
and Germanic ECB churches cooperated.
The other area of high energy was in Omsk, where within a few years, the 25
congregations of an independent Brethren union had started at least that many mission
stations in surrounding villages. This too was a badly depressed area, never seriously
incorporated by the Orthodox, so that most conversions were from quite total religious
ignorance to Christian faith as understood by this Mennonite community. The Omsk
Brethren (a common designation for them) maintained close ties to the ECB union based in
the city of Omsk, the latter staffed by better organized and trained leaders, it turned out, and
they regularly kept in touch with the Mennonites who were part of the Shchuchinsk ECB
community in Kazakhstan, and also regularly kept in touch with the increasingly separatist
Reform Baptists in Slavgorod region.
Theological Education and M ission

Allow me to sketch out a few patterns that developed, that show how widespread
was the idea that theological education is mission. The Omsk Brethren had sustained their
integrity by keeping their distance from the M oscow Baptists and schools, and now after
1990 were in touch with German and North American Mennonites, but also kept a bit of
distance. So there was funding from abroad to improve local publishing houses, where
Bibles, commentaries, and even a biography of Menno Simons in Russian was reprinted.
The Omsk Brethren started holding their own winter Bible Schools, assigning a number of
their younger leaders the task of reading what materials they could find and presenting
lectures to the leadership group. In Kyrgystan in contrast, the Ray of Hope mission started
a Bible School with dormitory, printing press, and radio studio, deliberately offering a
theological program for the pastors and missionaries in their midst, and by the end of the
century were offering cross cultural courses, addressing the issue of mission in a Muslim
culture. Another group, with Viktor Fast a key figure, organized visiting lectureships for
German professors, usually teaching in the area of philosophy or science, but who were
practising Christians, who interacted with the educators and students in the schools of higher
learning in Karaganda region.
W hat made much of this possible was the fact that between 1987 and 1993 well
over 90% of the Soviet Germans with ties to Mennonites had emigrated to Germany (about
100,000). Negatively speaking, this mass migration had emptied out churches. Positively
speaking, children or earlier and current emigrants returned as missionaries, but now armed
with some theological education. Other emigrants sent money and goods. The ministries in
Kyrgyzstan, Karaganda, and in Orenburg were soon totally dependent on that German
financial and personnel connection. It differed from the near total dependence of so many
Russian and Ukrainian churches and schools on western mission largesse between 1994 and
2001, because the dependency was less asymmetrical. That is, the culture gap was narrower,
the familial intertwining was so deep that consulting and communication remained rather
high. T he Aquila Mission has turned out to be the main link. Although its leaders have
encouraged theological education, its quarterly magazine is filled with archival materials and
articles reflecting on the Soviet experience, but the grass roots flavor is its most pervasive
element. One of the largest bodies of Mennonites in Germany, claiming over 20,000 active
members, and calling itself simply the Bruderschaft, has developed its own mission
organization, Bible school, youth and service programs, while avoiding the administrative
trappings. Hence its impact back in the Eurasian regions of origin of its members is hard to
measure statistically.5
Another mission that arose at the time of the Transformation was Logos Mission.
At first it concentrated on theological education by extension. Its leaders, such as Johannes
Reimer, Andrei Rempel, Heinrich Loewen and Peter Penner had discovered an M B
connection, managed to obtain an M Div degree from MBBS, returned to Germany and to
ministries in Russia while some of them also pursued doctoral degrees, Reimer and Penner
were David Bosch students. Logos began publishing books, Reimer, for example started a
series of biographies of early Russian Mennonite misisonaries. One major focus was to start
a TEE center, at first in the Ukraine, then they moved to St. Petersburg where today the
school is called St. Petersburg Christian University. Penner was its academic dean during
its most formative years, currently the President is Alexander Negrev, whose doctorate in
Old Testament set him on a course where he was organizing a conference in 2005 on Old
Testament textual sources involving Orthodox scholars and some from the W est.
The St. Petersburg Christian University, at first interdenominational, then aligned
itself with the large Russian ECB union in order to strengthen its ecclesial accountability.
Soon its leaders were meeting regularly with the leaders of Baptist seminaries in Moscow
and Odessa, and with a similar school in Donetsk Ukraine which had ties to the Reform
Baptists initially, to the ECB union and to the group in between, now known as the united
independent ECB churches. Out of this pattern of consulting there emerged the Euro-Asiatic
Accrediting Association (EAAA) that quickly became more than a straightforward
accrediting association. The EAAA took over the management of an oral history program
started earlier with the four schools in cooperation with M CC and the Int. Baptist Seminary
in Prague. It managed a wide ranging book publishing program (Bibleiskaia kafedra)
through which translations of materials into Russian for use in schools became possible.
5
Although details have appeared in various publications, including in the recently published Mission
in the Soviet Union, edited by Walter W. Sawatsky and Peter F. Penner, Schwarzenfeld: Neufeld Verlag, 2005;
my construction here is based as much on semi-annual travels in the region since 1990 in my work as MCC
consultant.
Bosch’s Transforming Mission, for example, appeared in Russian a half dozen years ago.
It held theological consultations, bridging the long standing divide between Pentecostals and
Baptists, and produced scholarly journals where the new professors in the schools were
learning to become thought leaders.
This is a fascinating story in which the M ennonite dimension is not easily
disentangled from Evangelical Free Church, Baptist, and even Pentecostal influences. To
illustrate, the first leader of the Odessa College and Seminary, told me in quite straight
forward fashion when we were negotiating with his new publishing house to print the Old
Testament Commentary series, that he and his group were proudly conservative, not like the
Moscow Baptists and the Mennonites from the west, but we could cooperate. At the time
his main sponsors were dispensationally oriented Slavic immigrants in America closely tied
to Dallas Theological Seminary. In 2004 that same leader from Odessa was spending a half
year sabbatical at Fresno Pacific University, and on his return resumed oversight of a project
to translate the essential writing of Menno Simons together with a book of essays that
included contributions by scholars like Peter Penner and scholars from the schools in Russia,
such as a teacher in Omsk, Konstantin Prokhurov, who is currently working on a historical
dissertation from the University of W ales but administered by the IBTS in Prague.
Also at IBTS there are a growing number of students, some of them Russian
German Mennonite, others Russian or Ukrainian, who share the theological orientation that
the IBTS professors describe as anabaptist-baptist. So it is quite natural that Peter Penner
has organized the next conference on mission education, with the title Anabaptism and
Mission.6 W e can imagine some of the contours of the discussion since we know that
W ilbert Shenk is the keynote lecturer, but the Russian student/scholars can be counted on
to offer a perspective (and a set of footnotes to go with it) that presents yet another side of
the global meanings of an Anabaptist perspective on mission.
Summary Observations
So were the M ennonites part of the bad or the good mission record? That is a
worthy question we should seek to address more directly than is our normal style. The point
is not so much to name the programs, or even the mission agencies (possibly even
Mennonite ones) whose efforts are not very worthy, but to keep attempting to frame the
question - what makes for good mission?
In this survey the North American involvement got very little mention, which was
due not only to the inner restraint about tooting one’s own horn, but I have found myself
thinking so often that indigenous work, and secondly the partnerships with west Europeans,
seem to offer more depth, and will be more lasting. There was always a difference when
listening to the witness of the local, formerly despised believer, and when listening to the
6
January 30-February 3, 2006, in Prague, Czech Republic.
well-suited and technically equipped western Christian. If for a brief time, the one with the
techniques, the laptop and too many books was rendered excessive respect, it began to sink
in that the authenticity of those who had lived and still lived with them, who shared the
fateful unknown future of still more unemployment and corrupt governments, was the sister
and brother worth having. There is a conscious contextualizing of the Gospel underway in
Eurasia, and it is a bit daunting when an Anabaptist perspective is what the new theological
leaders want to consider. Usually they do not mean thereby a detailed review of 16 th century
events and writings, but an appropriation of the reform impulses from those creative times
in western Europe, and from the legacy of the earlier Hussite movement, as they have begun
to notice how the people from the Anabaptist legacy conduct themselves today.
The past decade and a half has involved quick experimentation with things like
mass evangelism, radio, traveling libraries, camping and so many other programs. W hat we
have watched come to consciousness, has been this attempt to anchor the life of faith in solid
nurture. For some that means keeping a healthy distance from too much book learning. For
others, it means facing into that fear of new ideas, and seeking and finding the idiom
whereby the leaders of society come to take a Christian option seriously, not merely to do
what we can to keep the little flock from disappearing.
M ENNONITES AND M ISSION IN EURO-CENTRAL ASIA
David W . Shenk
Mennonites in mission have touched Euro-Central Asia in quiet and remarkable

ways often formed by much suffering. Johann and Hedi Matthies, now living in Korntal,
Germany, are one example. In Soviet times, Johann’s Mennonite family lived in the
Caucasus; his grandfather died in a Soviet forced labor camp in the so called Far North of
the country and his grandmother and three young daughters were placed in a boxcar with
others and sent into the GULAGs of Kazakhstan. The baby died enroute; the oldest
daughter (13) died in a blizzard on the co-operative dairy where she was placed; the middle
daughter (7) became a servant in a Kazakh home; the mother distraught in deep grief
wandered into the path of a truck and her body was broken, never to fully recover. After
some years the mother was released from the work camp and was able to rejoin her middle
daughter; that daughter is Johann’s mother - a woman who with her mother have been
persons of incredible faith and fortitude.
Pioneer Church Planting

W hen the Soviet system collapsed Johann and his wife, Hedi, who were Umsiedler
(ethnic Germans who moved to Germany from the Soviet Union) went back to the Northern
Caucasus as emissaries of Jesus Christ, to the same regions where his father was an elder of
a small MB church in the seventies. Although their lives were often under threat in this
troubled Islamic area, they planted the first national church of the region. W hen visas were
finally revoked, they returned to Germany where Johann gave his efforts in helping to
develop Licht im Osten, which produces massive amounts of Christian literature for
distribution across Euro-Central Asia and commissions missionaries. He now teaches
missions at the Academy for W orld M issions in Korntal, equipping missionaries especially
for outreach in Euro-Asia.
It is not only in the post-Soviet era that Mennonites are significantly involved.
Even in pre-Soviet times, Mennonites were pioneers of evangelical church formation within
Central Asia and in Eastern Europe, such as Uzbekistan and Romania. One of the very
earliest evangelical missionary commitment was in 1888 when Johann Thielman with his
wife and a small team migrated to Kyrgyzstan to share the Gospel among the Kyrgyz Turkic
Muslims. Thielman and team were pioneers, and especially significant because of their
commitment to cross-cultural evangelism. During the next century Baptists and M ennonites
David W. Shenk, Ph.D. after a career in mission and administration with Eastern
Mennonite Missions, is a widely recognized specialist on Islam, now serving as lecturer at
large. In this paper he reported on ministries in Central Asia and European parts of the
former Soviet Union based on recent travels.

David W . Shenk 137
who located in Central Asia, often forcefully by the Soviets, formed congregations wherever
they settled, but few had the vision for cross-cultural evangelism that Thielman and team
modeled. Many of the Baptist leaders and church planters have been Mennonites, as for
example, Frantz Tissen, who is President of the Kazakh Baptist Union.
In the current post Soviet era many of the Baptist/Mennonite congregations in
Central Asia are developing commitments to the cross-cultural evangelism that Thielman
pioneered well over a century ago. Massive Russian or ethnic German immigration out of
the region means that only congregations that evangelize will survive; an example is the
Mennonite congregation in Karaganda, Kazakhstan, where the entire congregation migrated,
except for the pastor couple who remained to evangelize; today there is a thriving
congregation of 200 comprised of Kazakhs.
The Umsiedler
Although 100,000 Mennonites left for Germany when the Soviet Union collapsed,
many of these Umsiedler are committed to mission back to the lands they have come from,
just as is true of the Matthies mentioned above. For example, when I was in Samarkand,
Uzbekistan recently, the Baptist pastor told me that M ennonites were the first believers in
Samarkand during the Soviet era. Then I learned that an Umsiedler Mennonite mission
called the First Motherland had just sent a large short term team to Samarkand who had built
a new church building, evangelized, organized camps for children, and taught discipleship
classes. Although German, they knew both Uzbek and Russian, and were a great
encouragement to the Samarkand churches. Their “first motherland” name means that these
Umsiedler German Mennonites consider Samarkand to be their original home— this is a
mission back to their homeland.
Lithuania Christian College

Lithuania Christian College has its roots within the Umsiedler missions movement.
During the last two decades of the Soviet Union, Baptists and M ennonite Brethren migrated
to Lithuania to await exit permits to enter Germany. Some learned Lithuanian as they
waited; some shared the Gospel and those seeds bore fruit in the Free Christian Churches
in Lithuania. In 1989 Umsiedler youth returned to Lithuania hosted by the Free Christian
Churches for evangelistic meetings with high school students. The leaders of the
independence movement in Lithuania took note, and opened conversation with the leaders
urging that they form a Christian university that would form the next generation of
Lithuanian leaders with Christian values.
A Mennonite Brethren Canadian business entrepreneur, Art DeFehr, learned about
this invitation; he was keenly interested for at 18 years of age his mother had escaped from
the Soviet Union to Canada via China after her parents were sent to Siberia. He marshaled
resources and vision for the college, especially within the Mennonite constituencies in
138 Mennonites and Mission in Euro-Central Asia
Canada whose historical memory was formed by Soviet persecution of their parents and
grandparents. Today Lithuania Christian College is a North American style liberal arts
college thriving within its adequate and growing campus facilities in Klaipeda with 550
students enrolled from about 20 countries of Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union,
and it is fully accredited by the Lithuanian government. Although the college is diversely
ecumenical, the ethos has been significantly formed especially by North American
Mennonites whose lives had been shaped by their families’ Soviet experiences. The
graduates are already helping to shape the societies and countries they come from.
Saint Petersburg Christian University

A similar development is the Saint Petersburg Christian University in Russia, a
theological school founded by Logos, a mission agency formed by Umsiedler for mission
into the former Soviet Union. That university trains pastors, evangelists, missionaries and
church planters, and the graduates are now serving across the entire region.
M ultiple M inistries
Like the college in Saint Petersburg, the reach of M ennonite Umsiedler missions
back to the regions they have come from is significant and widely present. The Ray of Hope
or Licht im Osten are other agencies committed to sending missionaries, developing
literature, equipping leaders, organizing camps, providing material aid, establishing schools,
and proclaiming the Gospel. Some of these movements are salted by or originally formed
by Mennonites, but are not predominantly Mennonite today.
Theological Education
Theological education is a significant way that Anabaptists are influencing church
and mission in the Euro-Central Asia. Noteworthy is the Evangelical Theological Seminary
in Osijek, Croatia. During the Marxist era, Gerald Shenk taught there. He and others have
profoundly shaped that seminary with Anabaptist commitments. Peter Kuzmic, the founding
president of the seminary, has found in Anabaptist kingdom theology centered in the cross
and resurrection, spiritual and theological foundations for authentic mission in societies
decimated by conflict and secularist visions of utopia. As a witness to its Anabaptist
commitments, the upstairs prayer room of the seminary is named T he Mennonite Room,
with paintings of key leaders of the early Anabaptist movement on the walls.
Likewise M ennonite missiologist Peter Penner at the International Baptist
Theological Seminary (IBTS) in Prague has helped to form that key institution with
Anabaptist commitments. One department is Anabaptist studies, and in 2006 the annual
missiology consultation, that attracts leaders from the entire Euro-Asia region, will focus on
Anabaptists and Mission. An occasional voice at the IBTS is the Associated Mennonite
Biblical Seminary (AM BS) missiologist, W alter Sawatsky, who through his writing and
David W . Shenk 139
teaching is shaping theological thinking within the region. These are only a few of multiple
ways that Anabaptists are helping to shape the direction of theological formation in the
region.
Anabaptists and Islam

In modest ways I have become engaged in helping to form approaches to Islam
especially in Central Asia. A key forum has been the College of Theology and Education
(CTE) in Chisinau, Moldova. This seminary gives special attention to Muslim background
persons from the Caucasus and Central Asia. Each year I teach courses related to Christian
witness and Islam, and in those classes touch emerging leaders from all countries in the
region. Sometimes this is followed up with invitations to teach in other venues within the
region.
Complementing these teaching involvements are publications. Bibles for All has
just released the book, A M uslim and A Christian in Dialogue by a Muslim, Badru
Kateregga and myself. Also a Bible study course, The People of God, is now available in
a variety of languages within the region. This is a course that I, with a team in East Africa,
had developed for contextually sensitive witness among Muslims. This kind of confessional
yet irenic approach to witness is an Anabaptist contribution that is well received.
M ultiple Anabaptist M inistries

W ithin Central Asia the Umsiedler engagement is substantive; these people know
the languages and the culture of formerly Soviet republics. However, non-Umsiedler
M ennonites and Anabaptists are also serving with gentle distinction. One considers the
Canadian Mennonite Brethren Richard Penner who was recently killed in an air crash in
Uzbekistan; this family served for over two decades— at the time of his death he was
directing the W orld Concern program within Afghanistan and Uzbekistan. Another such
witness is that of Herbert and Ruth Friesen who are legendary. In 1969 they were the
pioneers of Mennonite involvement in Afghanistan, and invested over three decades in
developing eye clinics. A few months ago Dr. Herb went to his heavenly home, but the
signs of the kingdom that they developed across the land live on.
Many agencies serving within the region have international Mennonite
involvement, some serving in key leadership roles; most serving in low profile servant
ministries. For example, when I met with a Latin American Central Asia Outreach team in
Tashkent, they told me that two members of their team in Uzbekistan are Latin American
M ennonites. In Tajikistan I learned that Christian Aid (a North American conservative
Mennonite aid organization) is providing significant financial and material support for a
variety of commitments. Occasionally a delegation of Mennonite men with black hats and
bonneted women come in teams to help with projects and to make sure that their provisions
are well invested. In Kabul I spent an afternoon at a school for exceedingly poor children
140 Mennonites and Mission in Euro-Central Asia
that is developed and administered by a French Mennonite couple.

Korean Anabaptists who have special concerns for peacemaking are serving in
Afghanistan. They organize peace camps and seminars on peacemaking. Much of the effort
within the region is development oriented. However, these Korean Anabaptists are raising
the banner of a complementary sign of the Kingdom: peacemaking. This creative Korean
ministry in peacemaking is touching an area of deep need within societies that have been
profoundly wounded by several decades of conflict.
In regions that have experienced much conflict and repression by secularist visions
of utopia, Anabaptist presence and witness to the presence of the Kingdom in Christ is often
welcome, providing it is a witness given in the Spirit of the Suffering Servant. One example
of that welcome is a M ennonite – Iranian Shi’ite Dialogue. In 2004 eight Mennonite
theologians were invited to Iran in the context of the commemoration of the 25 th anniversary
celebration of the Iranian Muslim revolution. We were then invited to Qom for a couple
days of dialogue on Revelation and Authority. W hy were these Anabaptists invited? As I
listened and participated, it seemed to me that these were some of the reasons for the
invitation: we do good; we do not have political power; we seek to bring every area of life
under the authority of the kingdom of God; our story includes suffering and martyrdom
(This is a theme that Shi’a Muslims identify with.); we are a People of the Book; we
represent a community of faith committed to faithfulness to God; we are committed to non-
violent peacemaking.
Conclusion
This essay provides only glimpses into the rich diversity of Mennonite-Anabaptist
ministries within Euro-Central Asia. W e, with others, make many mistakes. Yet, as the
Spirit proclaimed in regard the church at Philadelphia (Revelation 3:7-13), the Lord has
opened a door, and the Spirit outlines the reasons this door is opened: good deeds, little
strength, committed to the Scriptures, do not deny Christ, endurance, obeying the commands
of Christ (Sermon on the M ount Christians), patience in suffering. And then the Spirit
commands: hold on to what you have! Anabaptists serving in Euro-Central Asia are called
of God to emulate the church in Philadelphia, and as that happens, a door is open that no one
can shut.
EVANGELICAL M ISSIOLOGY IN W ESTERN EUROPE - AN ANABAPTIST
PERSPECTIVE
Bernhard Ott
On the Evangelical M ovement in German Speaking Europe

W ithin the larger theme “Mission in Global and Anabaptist Perspective” this
presentation focuses on Europe, more precisely – as the title indicates – on W estern Europe.
In fact, I narrow it down one step further to the topic: “Evangelical Theology of Mission in
German Speaking Europe – An Anabaptist Perspective”.
German Evangelicalism is a rather recent phenomenon. In its present shape it is a
child of the great split of the 1960s between so called ecumenicals and evangelicals. This
is a sad story. Both evangelicals as well as ecumenicals have lost a lot through this
polarisation – a polarisation, which almost nowhere in the world is as strong and long lasting
as it has been in Germany.
But there is another sad element to the story: Mennonites in German speaking
Europe are strongly affected by this history. Those who where inspired by Pietism and Neo-
Pietism in earlier centuries count themselves as part of the evangelical movement. These are
mainly the M ennonite groups in South Germany and Switzerland, but also the Mennonite
Brethren Churches and those of Russian background. Others, especially those in North
Germany and also the Dutch Mennonites would rather hold to the ecumenical movement.
The sad thing is that the ecumenical-evangelical controversy has been imported into the
Mennonite community.
In my view, the Anabaptist-Mennonite movement has, grounded in its heritage, the
potential of pointing a way beyond the polarisation, and maybe it has the task of building
bridges between the two opposed movements. This is at least the way I have seen my
contribution in recent years.
This is the perspective of this presentation. It is, in a certain way, an account of my
personal pilgrimage with and sometimes between evangelicals and ecumenicals. First I will
offer some general comments on the evangelical movement in German speaking Europe.
Secondly, I will introduce three strands of dialogue I have been involved with in recent
years. Third – the most extensive – section focuses on one particular topic which returns
to the discussion table over and over again.
General Comments on the Evangelical M ovement in German Speaking Europe

In German we use the term evangelikal to refer to what in English is called
Bernhard Ott is Director of Studies at Bienenberg Bibel Seminar, Liestal Switzerland, and
specializes in missiology.

142 Evangelical Missiology in W estern Europe - An Anabaptist Perspective
evangelical. But the word evangelikal is an ambiguous term. 1 First of all it is not a German
word; it is just the Germanized form of the English evangelical. Originally the English word
evangelical was simply the translation of the German evangelisch – for instance Karl
Barth’s Einführung in die evangelische Theologie is translated Introduction to Evangelical
Theology.
The term evangelical, however, became the label for a specific stream within the
larger Protestant movement. Carrying this specific meaning it was then introduced back into
the German speaking context as evangelikal. This happened in the 1960s. By creating this
new term German evangelicals achieved two things: (1) They gained identity through a term
which is clearly distinguishable from the German evangelisch which comprised the entire
Protestant movement. (2) Secondly, in a phase of crisis and weakness they strengthened their
identity by linking with the international, especially the North American evangelical
movement.
In Germany the evangelical movement has become a recognizable force with a
quite clear identity. The movement understands itself as standing on the shoulders of early
Pietism and the neo-pietistic movements of the 19 th century. This means that it includes free
churches, independent mission movements, many interdenominational Bible schools as well
as the so called Gemeinschaftbewegung (Fellowship-Movement) within the Lutheran state
churches. The largest and most important institutional umbrella of Evangelicals in Germany
is the Evangelical Alliance (Evangelische Allianz!). 2 Under this umbrella many institutions
and associations developed. In view of our topic I only mention The Association of
Evangelical Theologians, The Association of Evangelical Missions, The Association for an
Evangelical Missiology and the Akademie für Weltmission (Graduate School of World
Mission) in Korntal/Stuttgart, which is the European campus of Columbia International
University, South Carolina.
The term evangelikal is used by evangelicals in Germany without hesitation. It has
become a clear identity term, indicating opposition to the so called liberal and ecumenical
wing of the Protestant movement.
Not quite so in Switzerland. W hile there is a recognizable evangelical movement,
also under the umbrella of the national Evangelical Alliance, the term evangelikal has never
been liked. There may be many reasons for this. One is certainly that the opposition over
against the more liberal and ecumenical wing of the Protestant movement never had the
strong apologetic, even polemical tone as it used to have – and sometimes still has – in
Germany. This led to the situation that evangelical institutions in Switzerland seldom use
1
See more in Bernhard Ott, Beyond Fragmentation. Integrating Mission and Theological Education.
Oxford: Regnum Books, 2001 (:27-34).
2
Friedhelm Jung sees three mayor groups representing German evangelicalism, the Evangelical
Alliance, the Bekenntnisbewegung within the Lutheran Church, and the Pentecostals (Die deutsche evangelikale
Bewegung – Grundlinien ihrer Geschichte und Theologie. Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1992).
Bernhard Ott 143
the term evangelikal in their names. The Association of Evangelical Missions is not called
Arbeitsgemeinschaft evangelikaler Missionen, but Arbeitsgemeinschaft evangelischer
Missionen. The Association of Evangelical Theologians is not called Arbeitsgemeinschaft
evangelikaler Theologen, but Arbeitsgemeinschaft für biblisch erneuerte Theologie
(Association for a biblically renewed theology).
Another difference between German und Swiss evangelicalism is highlighted by
the observation that the German Association of Evangelical Missions took as their
theological foundation the Frankfurt Declaration in addition to the Lausanne Covenant,
while the Swiss Association is based only on the Lausanne Covenant.
Dialogue with Ecumenicals and Evangelicals: A Personal Account

I am currently involved in three processes of dialogue. 1) One consists of a group
of missiologists who advise the Association of Evanagelical Missions in Switzerland on
theological issues, and who conduct an official dialogue between the ecumenical and
evangelical missions in Switzerland. 2) The Association for an Evangelical Missiology
(Arbeitsgemeinschaft für eine evangelikale Missiologie) invited me to speak at a conference
in 2005 on the topic “German Evangelical Theology of Mission - Quo Vadis?”
I interpret this title as a sign of hope. For many years the course of German
evangelical theology of mission was quite clearly defined by the Frankfurt Declaration and
the impact of Peter Beyerhaus. The result was an apologetic, even polemic anti-ecumenical
position. Even the Lausanne Covenant was criticised as being too open and too much a
compromise with the ecumenical view of mission.
I have always questioned this one-sided conservative position of the German
evangelical theology of mission. Most sharply and loudly I presented an evidence based
critique in my doctoral dissertation. 3 At that time I was not quite sure whether certain
evangelicals would excommunicate me from their institutions and associations!
The situation became critical when Klaus Schäfer of the Evangelische
Missionswerk Hamburg, a Lutheran theologian representing the ecumenical missions,
reviewed the published dissertation and wrote the following:4
One is tempted to summarize with reference to a phrase from Martin
Luther who in his time spoke of the ‘Babylonian Captivity of the Church’,
and to see Ott’s work calling into question the ‘Babylonian Captivity of
German Evangelical Missiology’. It is the captivity to an anti-ecumenical
‘apocalyptic apologetic’ and the narrow theology of Peter Beyerhaus and
his pupils, it is the captivity in German Lutheranism which is not able to
acknowledge a wholistic theology of the kingdom of God, it is the
3
Bernhard Ott, Beyond Fragmentation. Integrating Mission and Theological Education. Oxford:
Regnum Books, 2001.
4
In Tranformation19/2 (2002) (:144-149). A shorter German version is published in Zeitschrift für
Mission 29/1-2 (2003) (:126-127).
captivity in North American conservative evangelicalism and the

captivity in dogmatism, institutionalized conservatism and biblical
orthodoxy, and it is not least the captivity to a mindset that is dominated
by a fear of change.
I was not excommunicated from evangelical circles. On the contrary: the
Association for an Evangelical Missiology convened a consultation inviting Klaus Schäfer
and me in order to dialogue on the different issues which have caused so much polarisation
over the last 40 years. This was in October 2003. It was perhaps the first official
consultation of evangelical and ecumenical missiologists in Germany since the split in the
1960s. This is a sign of hope.
W hen the Association for an Evangelical Missology today asks “Quo vadis?”, it signals the
search for new ways beyond the shadows of the Frankfurt Declaration, Peter Beyerhaus and
George W . Peters. 5
This search, however, is not supported by all Evangelicals. To take but one
example: recently the German translation of G. W . Peters’ A Biblical Theology of Mission,
first published in 1977, was reprinted with an extensive introduction by Helmut Egelkraut,
a leading Lutheran evangelical theologian and missiologist. Egelkraut warns the German
evangelical mission movement by claiming that it is losing its clear Biblical foundation and
that it is moving in the direction that the W CC did 40 years ago - accepting the socio-
political agenda inspired by Liberation Theology.6
(3) Egelkraut’s warning is directed towards a third stream of reflection and
interaction among evangelicals in German speaking Europe. There is a still small, but
growing group of mission practitioners who talk and reflect on Christian community
development. Most of them are internationally involved in various types of missionary social
work. They are aware of the international dialogue on topics such as transformational
development and integral mission. However they also realize that in their home country
Germany theologians and church leaders are highly sceptical regarding such concepts.
Today this group of holistic mission practitioners want to reflect theologically on
what they are doing. They are eager to explore Biblical as well as theological foundations
for an integral understanding of mission. Given the history and the position of German
evangelical missiology, however, they do not get much help from their theologians at home.
In February 2005 I was invited to their annual conference on Christian community
development. There were two questions they expected me to answer for them:
(1) W hy have German evangelicals in the last forty years largely opposed integral mission,
5
G. W. Peters was called 1978 to establish the Akademie für Weltmission (at that time Freie
Hochschule für Mission). In his person, Russian Mennonite Brethren Pietism and North American conservative
evangelicalism were united. He was warmly welcomed by German evangelicals, and he has shaped German
evangelical theology of mission not least through his book A Biblical Theology of Mission, which was translated
into German 1977.
6
Helmut Egelkraut/George W. Peters, Biblischer Auftrag – Missionarisches Handeln. Eine biblische
Theologie der Mission. Bad Liebenzell: VLM, 2005, 3rd, enlarged edition (:LXXV-LXIX).
Bernhard Ott 145
and this despite the rich heritage of Christian social work in Pietism?
(2) W hat could be the elements of a solid Biblical foundation for holistic mission?
In the following third section of my paper I offer an abridged version of what I
presented at that conference. For a North American Anabaptist-Mennonite audience this
may be meaningful on two levels: tt is an account of how one particular M ennonite
theologian in German-speaking Europe operates in dialogue with the German evangelical
theology of mission. It may also provide some helpful insights to the very question: W hy
have German Evangelicals in the last forty years largely opposed integral mission and this
despite the rich heritage of Christian social work in Pietism?
Historical Perspective: German Evangelicals and Holistic M ission

The key question to address here is: why have German Evangelicals over the past
forty years largely opposed integral mission, and this despite the rich heritage of Christian
social work in Pietism?
The outstanding contribution of the Pietist movement to Christian social work is
unchallenged. Much has been written on the Pietist heritage of social work. 7 This is certainly
not the place to go into the details. I will follow only one thread, the thread of an expert.
Klaus Bockmühl in his booklet Die Aktualität des Pietismus (The Continued Relevance of
Pietism) summarises the key features of the Pietist heritage. Besides other aspects he refers
to “the educational contribution of Pietism” (der pädagogische Beitrag des Pietismus), “the
task of social work” (der diakonische Auftrag) and “Pietism and social ethics” (Der
Pietismus und die Sozialethik). 8 The way the three topics are distinguished is already
significant. (1) At the centre is what in German is called Diakonie. Diakonie is the type of
Christian social work which is defined as “ministry of love for those in need”. It is the
expected normal practical Christian life, the fruit of a living faith which does not remain
invisible but finds its outward expression in deeds of compassion. W ith reference to
Galatians 5:6, the phrase “faith, expressing itself through love” is frequently used. 9 This
attitude led to the foundation of many social institutions, such as homes for poor, children
and orphans, hospitals and homes for the elderly. Diakonie contains first of all deeds of
mercy and compassion towards those in need, especially the victims of injustice and
violence. It does not aim primarily at the transformation of a possibly unjust social or
political system.
7
Cf. the standard historical work by Gerhard Uhlhorn, Die christliche Liebestätigkeit. Neukirchen:
Neukirchener Verlag, 1959 (reprint of the edition of 1895) (:653-760); see also Erich Beyreuther, Geschichte der
Diakonie und inneren Mission in der Neuzeit. Berlin: Wichern-Verlag, 1962 (2n d ed.); Marc Edouard Kohler,
Kirche als Diakonie. Zürich: TVZ, 1991 (:68-75); Reinhard Turre, Diakonik: Grundlegung und Gestalt der
Diakonie. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Neukirchener Verlag, 1991 (:19-28).
8
Klaus Bockmühl, Die Aktualität des Pietismus. Giessen/Basel: Brunnen Verlag, 1985 (:35-37; 42-51).
9
Cf. Martin Flaig, “’Glaube, der in der Liebe tätig ist’ – Die diakonische Dimension des Pietismus als
Herausforderung für die Gegenwart”, in Hartmut Schmid (ed.), Was will der Pietismus? Historische
Beobachtungen und aktuelle Herausforderungen. Wuppertal: Brockhaus Verlag, 2002 (:157-187).
(2) Secondly we turn to “the educational contribution” of Pietism. This refers to

the foundation of schools by the early Pietists. Outstanding are the works of Comenius and
Francke. The Neo-Pietist movement of the 19 th century again was characterised by the
foundation of schools and teachers’ colleges. Here we observe a stronger emphasis on
transformation. Hans-Günther Heimbrock argues that Pietist education was based on the
belief that a human being is open for transformation into the image of God. 10 He shows also
that early Pietist educators understood their work as being a work of salvation (Rettung),
helping children to overcome a sinful life. 11 Finally, educational work would contribute to
the “restoration of an entire Christian society”.12 This goes definitely beyond Diakonie in
the sense I described earlier. W e can say that the transformational dimension of Pietist social
work is closely related to ministries of education.
(3) Finally Bockmühl speaks about “social ethics”. Here he points to some very
significant realities in connection with our topic. Bockmühl refers to John Stott who calls
for a stronger Christian involvement in shaping society. Stott, in the words of Bockmühl, can
support his call with a longstanding British evangelical tradition of Christian social ethics
reaching back to W ilberforce and others. At this point Bockmühl makes the remarkable
comment that the German evangelical tradition does not have such a heritage. This is due
– says Bockmühl – to the Lutheran so called Zwei-Reiche-Lehre (D octrine of the two
Kingdoms). This has lead to an inherited scepticism over against all attempts to apply
Christian principles (such as the Sermon on the Mount) to society at large. Here we have
reached the very root of the opposition of German evangelicals towards those forces which
under the label “integral mission” aim at the christianisation of society.
This last element provides an initial clue for the answer of the question: “W hy have
German Evangelicals in the last forty years opposed integral mission”. However there are
other aspects which need to be taken into account. I will review four forces which have
shaped the critical stance of German evangelicals towards holistic mission:
(1) The differences between Lutheranism and Calvinism;
(2) The differences between post-millennialism and pre-millennialism;
(3) The influence of American Dispensationalism;
(4) The anti-ecumenical reflex of the 1960s and 1970s.
(1) The difference between John Stott and Klaus Bockmühl I mentioned earlier has
its roots in different emphases in Calvinism and Lutheranism in their view of society. Jürgen
Moltmann, referring to the Reformed and the Lutheran position claims: “The very strong
differences in post-war Germany – to this day – over questions of politics and social ethics
10
Cf. Hans-Günther Heimbrock, Nicht unser Wollen oder Laufen. Diakonisches Lernen in Schule und
Gemeinde. Neukirchen: Neukirchener Verlag, 1990 (:12).
11
Heimbrock (:14).
12
Heimbrock (:15).
Bernhard Ott 147
find their basis in the difference between these two conceptions.” 13

W hat is the basic difference? Luther 14 held a rather pessimistic view regarding the
transformability of society. His strong emphasis on the sinfulness of human beings and his
apocalyptic worldview led him to this conviction. Behind this is the understanding that
history is the battlefield between the “Kingdom of evil” (regnum diaboli) and the “Kingdom
of God” (regnum Dei). God fights the kingdom of evil with a double strategy: (a) On the one
hand he opposes evil and preserves creation and society through the powers of states,
governments and laws (the worldly rule, the kingdom to the left). (b) On the other hand he
proclaims the word of the gospel which leads to the salvation of individuals by grace
through faith (the spiritual rule; the kingdom to the right).
These two strategies should never be confused. Rulers, states and governments
should never intervene in the affairs of the proclamation of the gospel. And the church
should never attempt to rule society with the tools of the gospel (e.g. the Sermon on the
Mount).
Based on this distinction Lutheran missiologists have always tended to restrict the
term “mission” to the spiritual kingdom, the proclamation of the gospel. In turn they
normally oppose a definition of mission which includes tasks of the worldly kingdom, such
as the rule and the preservation of society.
Finally, based on the understanding that society is not transformable towards the
kingdom of God, the emphasis of Lutheranism is on order and preservation, not on
transformation.
In contrast, the Calvinist view has the notion of transformation at its very heart. 15
Based on the doctrine of the sovereignty of God Calvinism has a much more optimistic view
of progress in society and history. Starting with the individual Christian through the
Christian church and into all spheres of society and culture, God intends to transform fallen
realities toward his kingdom.16
The tension between these two theories can be observed across all the debates on
mission in the 20 th century. 17 This is true for the evangelical-ecumenical debate and also for
the inner-evangelical controversies. If we read through the documents of the many
evangelical consultations on evangelism and social responsibility which have taken place
13
Jürgen Moltmann, Following Jesus Christ in the World Today. Occasional Papers No. 4. Elkhart:
Institute for Mennonite Studies, 1983 (:19), cf. in German Jürgen Moltmann, Politische Theologie – Politische
Ethik. München: Kaiser (123).
14
On the Lutheran view see Moltmann, Following Jesus (:19-39); Moltmann, Politische Ethik (:123-
136); Gerd Flügel, Politisch Christ sein. Neukirchen-Vluyn: Aussaat Verlag, 1990 (:23-26); Robert E. Webber,
The Secular Saint. The Role of the Christian in the Secular World. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1981 (:113-127);
Kurt-Dietrich Schmidt, Kichengeschichte. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1979 (7th ed.) (:321-327).
15
Webber (:144-153).
16
Flügel (:26-29); Moltmann (:41-60).
17
The ongoing tension between the Anglo-Saxon and the Continental-European position in the
ecumenical debate is documented by Gerhard Sautter, Heilgeschichte und Mission. Zum Verständnis der
Heilsgeschichte in der Missionstheologie. Giessen/Basel: Brunnen Verlag, 1985 (:80-166).
after Lausanne 1974, we encounter the tension on almost every page. In general: Calvinists
have promoted a transformational understanding of mission including social and socio-
political dimensions.18 Lutherans have resisted such tendencies and have warned of
developments toward a “social gospel” which would confuse the two realms of God’s reign.
Mission theologians of Calvinist orientation have criticised the Lutheran emphasis on order
and preservation.19 In turn German evangelical Lutherans have attacked the transformational
emphasis of many evangelical Anglo-Saxon Protestant mission theologians.20
(2) Following from this first observation we can naturally move to diverging
eschatological conceptions. 21 It comes as no surprise that the post-millennialism of the 19 th
century emerged and prospered on Calvinist soil. 22 It is the optimistic outlook of the
transformational worldview which gave birth to an eschatological conception which
envisioned a continuing development of God’s kingdom to its world-wide culmination
before the return of Christ. On the other hand it is only logical that a more pessimistic,
apocalyptic worldview would hold to a pre-millennial eschatology. As we all know, post-
millennialism more or less collapsed with W orld W ar I – and definitely with W orld W ar II.
However a more optimistic outlook still characterises Calvinistic influenced theology of
mission. Here again we have a pattern of struggle between Anglo-Saxon and German
evangelical theologies of mission. 23
(3) The rise of dispensationalism added another dimension to the controversy
between a more optimistic, transformational Calvinist and a more pessimistic, preservational
Lutheran world view. Despite the fact that dispensationalism emerged within a Calvinist
context, it developed a much more pessimistic and apocalyptic view of history. Especially
the doctrine of the spiritual, moral and cultural decline of every dispensation lead to the
conclusion that a transformation toward a better society is not God’s intention.24 The
missiological implications are obvious: Not the transformation of society has priority but
the salvation of individuals out of a society destined for damnation.
18
This can easily be seen in the documents of the Grand Rapids “Consultation on Evangelism and
Social Responsibility” of 1982. German in Klaus Bockmühl, Verkündigung und soziale Verantwortung.
Giessen/Basel: Brunnen, 1983.
19
Cf. Vinay Samuel, one of the key promoters of a holistic understanding of mission, reviewed in
Christopher Sugden, The Asian Faith of Jesus. Oxford: Regnum, 1997 (:212-215).
20
The most thorough critique of Viney Samuel, Chris Sugden, Ronald Sider and others comes from
Eberhard Berneburg, Das Verhältnis von Verkündigung und sozialer Aktion in der evangelikalen Missionstheorie.
Wuppertal: Brockhaus, 1997.
21
Cf. Hans Schwarz, Jenseits von Utopie und Resignation. Einführung in die christliche Eschatologie.
Wuppertal: Brockhaus Verlag, 1990 (:205-209).
22
The post-millennial view is presented by Loraine Boettner, “Postmillenialism”, in Robert G. Clouse
(Ed.), The Meaning of the Millennium. Four Views. Downers Grove: InterVarity Press, 1977 (:117-141).
23
The influence of Anglo-Saxon eschatological theories on German churches, in the case of
Methodism, is helpfully presented by Christoph Raedel, “’Die Zeichen der Zeit erkennen’ – Spekulative
Eschatologie im deutschsprachigen Methodismus 1983-1914”, in Jahrbuch für Evangelikale Theologie 2004
(:145-171).
24
Cf. C. I. Scofield, Legen wir die Bibel richtig aus? Wetzlar: Herman Schulte Verlag, 1974 (:21) [=
translation of Rightly Dividing the Word of Truth]; also Raedel (:152-153).
Bernhard Ott 149
Through many North American missions and through the Bible School movement,
dispensationalism had a tremendous influence on some sectors of German evangelicalism
in the post-war period.25 It is not insignificant to notice that George W . Peters, an American
dispensationalist from Dallas Theological Seminary, was the first director of the Graduate
School for Mission in Korntal. Peters, however, was not only a North American
Dispensationalist, he was also a Mennonite of Russian-German background influenced by
German Neo-Pietism. This combination made him extremely fitting for his task at Korntal.
Peters’ Theology of Mission was translated in 1977 and became a major textbook
in many German evangelical Bible Schools. H is position leaves no doubts: there are two
mandates. One is the cultural mandate which is given to humanity, the other is the mission-
mandate which is given to Christians. These two should not be confused. 26 To do social and
cultural work is a good thing and Christians should certainly participate in the shaping of
society and culture. However this falls under the categories of “philanthropical and human
service” – and this is not “mission” in a Biblical sense. Mission is exclusively evangelism.27
(4) Finally German evangelical theology of mission is shaped by an outspoken
strong opposition to the W orld Council of Churches’ understanding of mission. The work
of Peter Beyerhaus and the Frankfurt Declaration – still the foundational confession of the
AEM – are at the heart of this struggle.
W e must see this opposition in historical perspective. As I said earlier, the
optimistic world view of Post-Millennialism died among evangelicals with W orld W ar I.
However the notion of establishing the kingdom of God on earth survived – not least in the
so called “social gospel” movement. W alter Rauschenbusch, a key figure of the movement,
put it as follows. “The ‘essential’ purpose of Christianity’ is ‘to transform human society
into the kingdom of God by regenerating all human relationships.” 28 W hile the idea of an
evolution toward the kingdom of God in this world found its continuation in this social
gospel movement and later in the ecumenical movement, many North American evangelicals
turned from post-millennialism to pre-millennialism and dispensationalism. W ith this they
lost the engagement for social responsibility and they started to oppose strongly the social
gospel movement and then also the ecumenical movement.29
W ithn the ecumenical movement further steps toward an immanent understanding
of God’s kingdom were taken. 30 In 1950 Johannes Christiaan Hoeckendijk published his
25
For a summary and additional sources see Ott, Fragmentation (:31-34); also Bernhard Ott,
“Missionstheologie in evangelikaler theologischer Ausbildung”, in Heinrich Löwen/Hans Kasdorf (eds.),
Gemeinsam im Auftrag des Herrn (Festschrift für John N. Klassen). Bornheim/Bonn: Puls Verlag, 1999 (:123-
139).
26
At this point Peters sounds very Lutheran.
27
George W. Peters, Missionarisches Handeln und biblischer Auftrag. Bad Liebenzell: Verlag der
Liebenzeller Mission, 1977 (:181-187) [= translation of A Biblical Theology of Mission].
28
Quoted in Berneburg (:40).
29
Cf. Berneburg (:35).
30
Cf. Sautter.
article “The Call to Evangelism” 31 in which he developed an integral understanding of

evangelism based on the Biblical concept of shalom. He proposed that the goal of
evangelism is shalom. This includes much more than individual salvation; it is peace,
integrity, fellowship, harmony and justice.32 This goal will be reached through integral
mission incorporating the proclamation of shalom (kerygma), the living of shalom in
community (koinonia) and the demonstration of shalom (diakonia).33 Referring to the
Apostles’ Creed he suggested that we add: “I believe in the Church as a means in the hands
of God to establish shalom in this world”. 34
Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s statement, “The church is only the church if it is the church
for others”, Johannes Hoeckendijk’s concept of shalom, and W alter Hollenweger’s
statement, “The world sets the agenda”, have each influenced the developments of the
ecumenical theology of mission of the 1960s and 1970s. Mission became a programme for
the humanisation of this world, a struggle for peace and justice.35
It is against this theology of mission in WCC circles that the Frankfurt Declaration
took position. The strong words of denunciation may have had their place in a given
situation. Klaus Bockmühl commented later that these polemical anti-ecumenical statements
had a function similar to an “emergency brake”. However – says Bockmühl – they are too
one-sided to serve as foundational texts for an evangelical theology of mission. Bockmühl
called for basic theological work that goes beyond an antithesis to the W CC’s theology of
mission. He sees in the Lausanne Covenant the first text providing a more balanced and
integrative understanding of mission. 36 W ith this Bockmühl refers mainly to issues relating
to the social dimension of the gospel and of mission.
On the other side, Peter Beyerhaus has always criticised Lausanne exactly for its
openness toward the integration of the social and political dimensions into the theology of
the kingdom of God and into an evangelical understanding of mission.37
W e can therefore say that the very strong anti-ecumenical pronouncements of
Beyerhaus and the Frankfurt Declaration had their price: The social dimension of mission
got lost. German evangelical theology of mission became suspicious of terms like kingdom
31
In International Review of Missions 39, 1950 (:162-175); German: “Der Aufruf zur Evangelisation”,
in Johannes C. Hoekendijk, Die Zukunft der Kirche und die Kirche der Zukunft. Stuttgart: Kreuz Verlag, 1964
(:85-108).
32
Hoekendijk, “Der Aufruf zur Evangelisation” (:96).
33
Hoekendijk, “Der Aufruf zur Evangelisation” (:100-101).
34
Hoekendijk, “Der Aufruf zur Evangelisation” (:100).
35
A foundational analysis of these developments from an ecumenical perspective in Dietrich Werner,
Mission für das Leben – Mission im Kontext. Ökumenische Perspektiven missionarischer Präsenz in der
Diskussion des ÖRK 1961-1991. Rothenburg: Ernst Lange Institut für Ökumenische Studien, 1993. From an
evangelical perspective, cf. Klaus Bockmühl, Was heisst heute Mission? Entscheidungsfragen der neueren
Missionstheologie. Giessen/Basel: Brunnen Verlag, 1974 (:63-152).
36
Bockmühl, Was heisst heute Mission (:162-179).
37
Cf. Peter Beyerhaus, “Lausanne zwischen Berlin und Genf”, in Walter Künneth/Peter Beyerhaus
(eds.), Reich Gottes oder Weltgemeinschaft? Bad Liebenzell: Verlag der Liebenzeller Mission, 1975 (:294-313).
See my interpretation of this fact in Ott, Fragamentation (:81-83).
Bernhard Ott 151
of God, shalom, social responsibility, contextualisation, or holistic mission. All these terms
belong to the vocabulary of ecumenical mission theology – and therefore can no longer be
used by evangelical without being affected by the ecumenical disease. It is a pity that
significant and integral aspects of the gospel were marginalised and even excluded in this
manner.
W ith this we have established an understanding of some reasons for the general
reluctance of German evangelicals toward a theology of holistic mission: (1) the Lutheran
pessimistic and apocalyptic worldview; (2) a pre-millennial eschatology; (3) the influence
of dispensationalism, and (4) a strong anti-ecumenical polemic.
But, this lack of a theology of integral mission does not mean that German
evangelicals have not been involved in social ministries. On the contrary, they are heavily
engaged in projects with social dimensions. However, it is my observation that they often
do it with some degree of guilt because they know deeply that ‘real’ mission would be
evangelism, church planting and theological teaching. Time and again I observe this
troubled conscience as I listen to missionaries presenting their work in churches at home.
A second observation is that there is a lack of integrative thinking. The result is that
evangelism and social work often stand side by side as two more or less unrelated activities.
W here integration occurs, it is more likely due to circumstances or the personality of the
missionary, than to a reflected conviction of holistic mission. But there is a great difference
between the mere addition of evangelism and social work and what we call integral or
holistic ministry.
My concern is not that German evangelical missionaries should do more social
work. M y conviction is that their evangelistic work and their social work would be much
more integrated if they would reflect on their theological heritage and discover a more
integrative theology of mission.
Elements of a Sound Biblical Foundation for Holistic M ission

Many Biblical terms, concepts and motives have been suggested for a foundation
for holistic mission. The most prominent are
(1) the universal lordship or sovereignty of Christ,
(2) the kingdom of God,
(3) the fullness of God’s salvation,
(4) the model of Jesus’ life and ministry,
(5) the dignity of human beings, and
(6) the understanding of persons in community.38
Most arguments are well known and I do not want to repeat them here. I would
38
Cf. Vinay Samuel in Sugden, Asian Face; Samuel/Sugden, Transformation; Ronald J. Sider, Rich
Christians in an Age of Hunger, 2n d ed. Downers Grove: Inter-Varity Press, 1984; Ronald J. Sider, One-Sided
Christianity. Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1993.
rather expand on a concept which – to my knowledge – has not received much attention but
has the potential of being a very strong and sound foundation for holistic mission. It is the
Biblical term shalom. I mentioned earlier that Johannes Hoeckendijk used the term when
he introduced the concept of integral evangelism in the 1950s. Maybe evangelicals have
been reluctant to use this term because of its ecumenical connotations. I suggest that we
leave such feelings behind us and concentrate on the rich potential of this Biblical concept.
On Christmas Eve the angels introduced the birth of Jesus the saviour with the
words: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those whom he favours”
(Luke 2:14). This is the shortest formula of holistic mission I know. And it is not just a
marginal text of the Bible; it is the programmatic announcement of Jesus the Messiah. There
are two inseparable components: the glorification of God and peace on earth. But what does
peace mean exactly?
Behind the Greek eirene stands the Hebrew shalom. The German Old Testament
scholar Otto Betz suggests that the Hebrew noun shalom is derived from the verb shillem
which means “to pay”.39 The status of shalom is reached when all debts are paid. Shalom is
a social term. It describes relationships. In the Old Testament community it first of all
qualifies human relationships. Shalom defines relationships in the context of material
wealth, of land, of justice and of power.
Betz points out that the Hebrew greeting “sha’al shalom” is not merely a wish for
peace; it is actually a question: “Is there shalom, or are there still debts to be paid?” Or
paraphrased: “Are you happy to see me, or do I still owe you something?” If there is still a
debt to be paid, there is not yet shalom. But debts can be paid, and shalom can return again.
But what if a debt is so great that it can never be paid? The only two solutions then,
according to ancient Hebrew culture, are for someone to intervene and pay the “shalom-
price” in place of the debtor, or else for the debt to be forgiven. In the Old Testament God’s
people knew various institutions designed to restore shalom by means of “shalom-price.” 40
Shalom encompasses all dimensions of life. Our relationship with God is part of
the picture as well as social realities and even our relation to God’s creation.
Applying Betz’s statement we can say: Shalom is established, when I can look in
God’s eyes, asking: “Are you happy to see me, or do I still owe you something?” And when
I can look in my neighbour’s eyes asking the same question: “Are you happy to see me, or
is there still a dept to be paid?” W e may even apply it to creation, looking at the fields and
the birds, the oceans and the mountains, asking: “Are you happy to see us, or do we still owe
39
Otto Betz, “Der Friede Gottes in einer friedlosen Welt”, in Theologische Auseinandersetzung mit
dem Denken unserer Zeit. Band 2. Neuhausen-Stuttgart: Hänssler Verlag, 1984 (:57).
40
For example, there was the liberation of slaves and the remission of debts in the Jubilee Year (Lev.
25). Cf. also the parable of the unforgiving slave in Matt. 18:23-35. For additional insight into the meaning of the
Jubilee as a “Shalom-order”, see John Howard Yoder, The Politics of Jesus. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1972 (:64-
77) [= Die Politik Jesu – der Weg des Kreuzes. Maxdorf: Agape Verlag, 1981 (:60-75)]; and Sider, Rich
Christians (:79-99).
Bernhard Ott 153
you something?”
This is not the place to look at the many Biblical texts which demonstrate the
centrality and the comprehensiveness of the Shalom-concept. I only list some of the most
significant passages:
• The re-established shalom in the Ruth-narrative.
• In the same way the Gospel-story about Zacchaeus.
• The Parable of the unmerciful servant in Matthew 18:21-35.
• The work of the servant of Lord in Isaiah 53.
• The “gospel of peace” of Ephesians 6:15, developed throughout Ephesians –
especially in chapter 2.41
• Finally realization of shalom beyond the community of God’s people in Jeremiah
29:7.
The Biblical concept of shalom provides the most powerful foundation for holistic
mission. The spiritual and the material, the individual and the social dimensions are always
inseparably tied together. The concept is Christologically anchored. At its heart stands the
One who has paid the shalom-price in order to reconcile humanity with God and with one
another. This reconciling work of Christ has a universal scope, yet it always has a personal
and individual dimension. Persons like Ruth and Zacchaeus follow individually the
invitation of God – but this never becomes individualistic. They live in community and
God’s shalom is experienced and lived in community. The Biblical shalom concept gives
the church as new humanity – as shalom community – priority. But God’s shalom intention
goes beyond the church. Zacchaeus’ shalom-behaviour transforms his town far beyond the
his personal life and his family. The larger society participates in the blessings of God’s
shalom. Finally it is the church as new and reconciled humanity which is the most powerful
demonstration over against the principalities and powers.
In this broad and integrative way we can conclude by saying: God’s project is
definitely peace on earth – to the glory of God in the highest.42
Conclusion
The title of this presentation is “Evangelical Missiology in Western Europe - an
Anabaptist Perspective”. I have presented to you a perspective based on my experience and
my reflections in the context of German evangelicalism. Other German Anabaptist-
Mennonite theologians would certainly contribute to the larger picture from different angles.
Let us only think of Fernando Ens on one side and Johannes Reimer on the other side of the
spectrum.
41
For the following I draw on Marlin E. Miller, “The Gospel of Peace”, in Robert L. Ramseyer (ed.),
Mission and the Peace Witness. Scottdale: Herald Press, 1979 (:9-23); as well as Thomas R. Yoder Neufeld,
Ephesians (Believers Church Bible Commentary). Scottdale: Herald Press, 2002.
42
On the Shalom-theme see also my book God’s Shalom-Project. Intercourse: Good Books, 2005.
Experience, research and reflection have led me to the following perception of the
situation: German evangelical theology of mission has for too long lived in the shadow of
an anti-ecumenical position as it is pronounced in the Frankfurt Declaration. Thereby
German evangelical theology of mission has maneuvered itself into a situation of isolation.
Themes which are central to a comprehensive Biblical understanding of mission, such as
Missio Dei, kingdom of God, contextualisation, shalom, and integrative ministry are
excluded from the picture because they carry ecumenical connotations.
A post-Beyerhaus generation of mission theologians is becoming aware of the
deficiencies of such a position and is searching for new ways into the future. The expression
“Quo vadis”, recently used in this connection is an appropriate indicator of the current
situation. I read it as a positive sign – a sign of transformation.
In this process my Anabaptist-Mennonite contribution is welcomed. This
encourages me to engage in the dialogue with evangelicals as well as with ecumenicals.
Finally, beyond all boundaries we are confronted with the same overwhelming
challenge in Europe. The burning question ultimately is: W hat is the future of the church in
a post-Christian context? No one has an easy answer to this question. But we cannot afford
simply sticking with the old agenda of the late 20 th century while we are facing such
tremendous challenges at the beginning of the 21 st century. There is one issue which must
be on the agenda and has not yet reached the German speaking world: W hat is the shape of
the church in a post-Constantine, post-Christendom age? Here again, an Anabaptist
contribution may be significant.
REDISCOVERING M ENNONITE IDENTITY IN TAIW AN: REFLECTIONS ON
M ENNONITE M ISSIONS FROM AN INSIDER’S PERSPECTIVE
Chiou-Lang (Paulus) Pan
Introduction
Christianity in Taiwan is a marginal group not only in its small membership but
also in its influence on social issues. Although Christian leaders in Taiwan have promoted
various revival movements for over two decades, churches in Taiwan, with few exceptions,
have had no/low growth for a long time. 1
The Mennonite Church, a direct descendant of the Anabaptist movement of the
sixteenth century, first encountered Taiwanese culture after W orld W ar II. Its members face
the same problems as their fellow Protestants do. Taiwan Mennonite Churches, as a minority
of the minorities, are struggling with both the inward and outward challenges. In this paper,
the author will examine the history of the Mennonite Church in Taiwan to reveal what it
gradually lost under the pressure of Taiwan’s modernization and how it lost it. The author
trusts that the findings will not only help the Mennonite Church practice its mission in the
changing society of Taiwan, but also offer an alternative voice in the quest for an emerging
Taiwanese identity.
1. Review of the Development of the M ennonite Churches in Taiwan

In 1948 the Mennonite Central Committee (MCC) was invited by a Presbyterian
missionary, James Dickson, to come to Taiwan to do medical service. In that year, they
established the Mennonite Mountainous Medical Team providing mobile medical service
in mountainous areas. MCC envisaged its work as a Christian service “in the Name of
Christ” and its programs have enhanced respect for the Mennonite Church throughout the
island (Pannebacker 1975, 327). The mountain clinic in Hualien expanded to be a hospital
with a 35-bed capacity in 1954 (Sawatzky 1970, 126). The Mennonite Christian Hospital
1
Sociological studies show that churches in Taiwan grew quickly during 1945-1965, especially among
mainlanders and aboriginal tribes. The Protestant community increased in number from about 37,000 just after
World War II to over 200,000 in 1960 (Qu 1997, 63; Peter Wang 2001, 323). The percentage of Christians on the
island rose from 1 percent in 1945 to 5 percent in 1965. (325) Since then this percentage has fallen although the
number of Christians has slowly increased. Accordingly to Taiwan Church Statistics (Protestant, including the
True Jesus Church which had 29,387 communicants), the total number of communicants was 194,814 in 1972
(published by Overseas Crusades Inc, 1974). Later on, the number of membership was 426,775 in 1989, and the
number increased to 610,444 in 2001. The percentage of Christians of the whole population was 3.3% in 2001.
Some independent churches grew very rapidly while the mainline churches declined. For instance, there were
26,000 members in Little Flock (Assembly Hall) in 1989 and 91,442 in 2001. There were 34,402 members in True
Jesus Church in 1975, 38,496 in 1984, 46,384 in 1995, and 70,359 in 2001. There were 5,168 members in Bread
of Life Christian Church in Taipei in 1989, and 22,374 in 2001.
Chiou-Lang (Paulus) Pan, with a MATS degree from AMBS, is pursuing a D. Miss. Degree
at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School and Trinity International University, Deerfield IL

156 Rediscovering Mennonite Identity in Taiwan
(MCH) has become a milestone of Mennonite medical care in Taiwan.

Due to the expansion of the medical work, the General Conference Mennonite
Board of Missions (later Commission of Overseas Mission, or COM) decided in 1953 to
take over the work of MCC and to plant churches among the Minnan-speaking (or
Taiwanese-speaking) people. The Mennonites did not plant churches among the aboriginals,
who were more receptive to the gospel because of an unofficial agreement with the
Presbyterian missionary, James Dickson. The first Mennonite church in Taiwan, the so-
called Bamboo Church, began on November 7, 1954 in Glen Graber’s garage which was
made of bamboo. The following year, after negotiations with a Presbyterian church and with
the help of a Presbyterian who lent him $3,500 Glen Graber purchased a Japanese style
wooden cabin to serve as the meeting place. 2 Some Presbyterians transferred to the new
Mennonite church. Lu Chun-Tiong, also called Uncle Peng-Hu, a Presbyterian pastor,
attracted many Taiwanese people with his folk-like charisma. Many were baptized into the
church, and he was the most important contributor to the early church growth of the
Mennonite Church in Taiwan (FOMCIT, 39). From 1954 to 1964, seven local churches
were established and shepherded by indigenous pastors spread over three areas: Taichong,
Hualien and Taipei.3 The Fellowship of Mennonite Churches in Taiwan (FOM CIT) was
officially established at the 5 th Annual Conference in 1963. From that moment on, under the
support of Commission of Overseas M ission of the General Conference Mennonite Church
in North America, 4 new Mennonite churches were gradually established. According to the
annual report of FOMCIT, there were already sixteen congregations with a total of 903
members in 1978.
GPS: The Ten-Year Mission Program

On November 20-22, 1972, FOMCIT enthusiastically responded to COM’s
program by holding a seminar on the development of three criteria for church work: goals,
priorities and strategies (GPS) (Lin 1992, 111). COM’s program became FOMCIT’s vision.
The second seminar on GPS was held on September 19-21, 1976. FOMCIT decided to plant
one new church every year. FOMCIT also recommended and supported many pastors to
study further at Associated M ennonite Biblical Seminary (AMBS) in the United States.
However, the training project of GPS has not been successful in some respects.
FOMCIT under the Economic Development Since 1950s

A series of projects of targeting economic and land reform was set up in Taiwan
2
Interview with Mr. T. S. Chao, an elder of Linsen Road Church, via email.
3
The Mennonite Church in Taiwan: 1954-1964, 12
4
A chart of benefit-loss ratio shows the great dependence of FOMCIT on COM. According to the 1976
chart, the total annual income of FOMCIT was NT$3,064,027.66, but NT$2,438,141 were received as support
from COM. Cf. the 19th annual booklet of FOMCIT, 14-15.
Chiou-Lang (Paulus) Pan 157
in 1950s. These projects were very successful and improved Taiwan’s economic state
greatly. As a result, in the 1980s the Mennonite Church in Taiwan was able to fulfill its
desire for unity with the global Mennonite community. In order to gain identification with
the global Mennonite Church, many church members organized touring groups to attend the
W orld Mennonite Conference assemblies in Kansas, USA, in 1978 and at Strasbourg,
France, in 1984. However, the spiritual enthusiasm of a communal relationship with the
worldwide Mennonite Church gradually dissolved as Taiwan’s modernization progressed.
Cecil W ang (2001) identifies some of the impacts of modernization, particularly
on the younger generation, and on the development of independent thinking. Materialism
and utilitarianism develop along with rapid economic growth. People become more
individualistic. The younger the generation, the less inclined they are to carry out and
preserve cultural traditions.(153-155) Taiwan also has adapted the American education
system, and professional skills, technology and science are now the major topics of school
education. Therefore, education has not only elevated people to a higher social class, but
also driven people toward an American individualistic egalitarian ideology.
A leading sociologist, Qu Haiyuan (1997), says that modernization means
secularization, and among religious organizations, Christianity is the most influenced by
modernization.(71) The Taiwanese have become individualistic and utilitarian,
concentrating on their businesses and instant gratification. There were many college students
baptized into the church who later became its backbone in the 1960s and 1970s. But the
churches were moving away from the majority of Taiwanese people when its members were
socially lifted up into the middle class and were spending most of their time and energy on
their jobs. In addition, material supports such as milk powder and flour are no longer
attractive to those outside the church.
Urbanization drives the churches into a totally different situation. Around 80% of
the population of T aiwan lived in rural areas in the 1950s, but currently, the urban
population has increased to 75 %. Churches that were surrounded by rice field in the 1950s
and 60s, are now surrounded by cement high-rises. Urbanization also changes people’s
mentality, but not many churches are aware of this change.
From 1977 to 2000, the social services of FOMCIT continued to be developed with
three institutions being founded. Otto Dirks founded New Dawn Retardation Developmental
Center in 1977 in Hualien for taking care of those who suffer from physical or mental
disabilities. In 1992, the Taiwanese government allocated 126 million Taiwan dollars to
move the center to a seven-story building because of New Dawn’s respectable service. New
Dawn, now seeks to be a professional skill-training center for the disabled in east Taiwan.
The Good Shepherd Center was also established in Hualien in 1986 for rescuing child
prostitutes, young girls who have suffered sexual abuse, and women who are the victims of
domestic violence. They also regularly visit tribal communities and give hygiene lessons and
legal advice. After a series of expansions with support from Christian organizations in North
America and Germany, the Mennonite Christian Hospital became a 206-bed regional
hospital in 1981. It later gained a favorable island-wide reputation when Dr. Roland
Brown’s story, who was a medical doctor and a long-term Mennonite missionary to Taiwan,
was broadcast on television in the mid-90s. The Taiwanese were surprised that a “Taiwanese
Schweitzer” had lived among them for 40 years. Large donations from the Taiwanese
accomplished the third expansion project and made MCH a modern hospital with a 600-bed
capacity and the latest medical equipment. The visions of these three institutions are still
expanding. However, during this same period of time, FOMCIT planted only four new
churches, two of which are already closed. There were nineteen congregations and 1,071
active members in Mennonite churches in Taiwan in 2001.
The Phenomena of Religious Revival and Competition

From 1971 onward, churches in Taiwan began to pursue a revival. The different
schools of Buddhism and the new folk religions in Taiwan applied methods of business
administration, mass media, and organizational reconstructions to increase their influence
on intellectuals, especially in the late 90s. The revival of Buddhism in Taiwan in the 1970s
stimulated the Christian churches by giving the Christians a feeling of crisis. Many churches
tried various church-growth models from Korea, Singapore, and North America as a
remedy. The church leaders held a number of church growth lectures, seminars and
conferences. Responding to the AD 2000 Evangelism Movement, FOMCIT also held a
seminar on “The Mennonite Ten-Year Project Toward the Year 2000,” meeting on June 23-
24, 1990. Five issues were dealt with in this seminar and many goals and strategies were
developed for each issue (Lin 1992, 113-114). However, due to the difficulties of executing
the strategies, most of goals of this seminar did not amount to much.
The Emergence of a Taiwanese Identity

The intertwined complexity of ethnic identity and national identity has been a hot
issue since 1987, the year Taiwan’s democratization officially began. The aborigines,
Hakka, Ho-Lo, and the Mainlanders who came to Taiwan in different periods have divided
Taiwan’s society and created disharmony around the country. The focus of their arguments
is Taiwaneseness vs. Chineseness. Finally in the mid-1990s Taiwan Priority (¥xÆW Àu¥ý)
or Taiwanese Consciousness (¥xÆW ANÃÑ) became “politically correct”. The idea of a New
Taiwanese identity emerged.
The New Taiwanese identity exists alongside a series of political events. To some
extent, it is an artificial distinction. But it is not solely a product of the manipulation by the
politicians on both sides of the Taiwan Strait, but rather has emerged from ordinary people’s
reactions to these political events. Mythologized Taiwaneseness has developed into a
cultural hegemonic project, looking for the significance of the origins of a Taiwan-centered
identity (Chu 2000). However, ideological Taiwan-centered identity (Taiwaneseness), an
ethnic identity mixed with national identity, could potentially lead to warfare because
political leaders frequently use ethnic identity to motivate and justify warfare (Brown 2001).
The extreme form of Taiwanese indigenization toward ethnic nativism could be absolutely
disastrous.
The Christian churches in Taiwan have inevitably been involved in this hot issue.
Language usage reflects this situation. Speaking mother languages has become a label of
political identity. Phenomenologically, Mandarin-speaking churches favor missions to
China, but the Minnan-speaking churches are reluctant to do so. W hat are the reasons which
make Mandarin-speaking churches send their resources to the overseas Chinese, and
Minnan-speaking churches keep contact with overseas Minnan Taiwanese? At the very least,
there are different “senses of origin,” a sort of ethnic identity influenced by the political
national identity, among Christians in Taiwan. The main reason why different churches in
Taiwan act so differently is not theological, but political. Both groups are influenced by
patriotic sentiment. They are merely reacting to the Great Chinese Nationalism, which has
long been imposed by the KMT (the Chinese National Party).
Assimilation Crisis
The Mennonites came to Taiwan under the invitation of the Taiwan Presbyterian
Church. The Mennonites have helped the Presbyterian Church establish about 400 mountain
churches among tribal people, and many Presbyterians helped the Mennonite Church grow
in the early stage. However, many Mennonite pastors and believers coming from
Presbyterian background also carried their Presbyterian baggage with them. W orship
procedures, hymnbooks and even church regulations are similar. FOMCIT has only 1,071
active members while the number of the Presbyterians is more than 200,000. Therefore,
many Mennonites cannot distinguish whether FOMCIT is “M ennonite Presbyterian or
Presbyterian M ennonite”. 5 If FOMCIT continues to use the same hymnbook, worship
procedures, speaking the same dialect, same ethnic identity, and similar attitude toward
Taiwan’s international status, then it is just a matter of time before it will be assimilated with
the Taiwan Presbyterian Church.
The diversity of churches can reveal various facets of the Christian gospel.
Unfortunately, Christianity in Taiwan seems to be reduced to three “denominations”: the
aboriginal churches, the Mandarin-speaking churches and the Minnan-speaking churches.
W hen Presbyterians in Taiwan began to increasingly emphasize identification with the land
and with the people, and to politicize their “Theology of Self Determination” 6, the
5
This term was quoted from James C. Juhnke, A People of Mission, 132.
6
The term is a translation of “Chhut-Thau-Thi theology” which is an adjustment of the Homeland
Theology by Po-ho Huang, a Taiwanese Presbyterian theologian. Cf. A Theology of Self-Determination:
Responding to the Hope for “Chhut Thau Thi” of People in Taiwan, 1996. See also Ching Feng 39(2), June 1996,
105-114.
Mennonites failed to look to their own traditions, like nonconformity, to address the issues
(Loewen 1988, 420). They did not have an answer to the question which an American
historian, James Juhnke raised, “W hat would it mean to be a faithful Christian and a
Mennonite in Taiwan in the 1980s and beyond?”(1979, 144) Although the Mennonite
Church in Taiwan has been in existence for over 50 years, it has gradually lost its distinctive
identity in the process of Taiwan’s modernization.7 The future of Mennonites in Taiwan
relies upon their rediscovering their theological vision from their historical origins and
“letting Mennonites be Mennonite.”
2. Rediscovering the M ennonite Identity

Historical Origins
In the sixteenth century, Anabaptism was a church reform movement born at the
time and in a context of the traditional church being secularized, society rapidly changing,
and the Protestant Reformation being unsatisfactory to the grassroots. The M ennonite
Church is a direct descendant of the Anabaptists who began their religious reforms
spontaneously from the grassroots of several geographical and ideological points of origins.
They insisted that baptism should be conducted for adults alone even though they had
already received infant baptism. In the context of sixteenth century Europe, re-baptism was
not only a religious practice, but also challenged the socio-political hierarchies, threatening
the uniformity of religious confession and practice in political territories. (Snyder 1995, 1)
For this reason, the Anabaptists were usually persecuted by both the authorities and other
reformers. Nevertheless, the Anabaptist movements spread all over Europe, from the
Netherlands to Poland to Slovakia. (Snyder 1999, 7-8)
Who Were the Anabaptists?

Emperor Charles V considered the Anabaptists to be a social plague. He searched
out the Anabaptists and executed those who received re-baptism. The Reformers thought of
them as heretics, and some considered them polygamists and demon-possessed bandits.
Troeltsch (1931) classifies them as Christian sectarians. Preserved Smith criticizes the
Anabaptists, calling them the Bolsheviks of the Reformation. 8 Roland Bainton (1953)
considers them the “left wing of the Reformation” because they clearly withdrew from the
social system. George H. W illiams (1992) classifies them as Radical Reformers. Mennonite
7
Whether FOMCIT has lost their Mennonite identity or never gained it is arguable. Japanese
Mennonite pastor Yamada criticized FOMCIT for being too similar to the Presbyterians in 1960s. Juhnke argued
that FOMCIT did not carry out Mennonite convictions such as pacifism. However, FOMCIT showed great interest
in attending the Mennonite World Conference and enthusiastically hosted the Asian Mennonite Conference in the
early 1980s. It seems that FOMCIT had a vague Mennonite identity mixed with Presbyterian elements. Even so,
it was gradually lost.
8
Bender, H. S., “Anabaptist Vision” in the Recovery of the Anabaptist Vision, ed. by Guy F.
Hershberger, p.35.
historian C. J. Dyck (1993) thinks Anabaptism was a wave in a series of reformations since
the Constantinian shift. Another Mennonite historian, W alter Klaassen (2001), considers
Anabaptism the third way of church movement in his book: Anabaptism: Neither Catholic
nor Protestant. More radically, Oosterbaan (1977) argues that Anabaptism should not be
put in the spectrum of the Reformation, but should be thought of as the Reformation of the
Reformations after analyzing the differences between Anabaptist doctrines, such as
Christology and the meaning of faith, and those of other Reformers. Sixteenth century
Anabaptists identified themselves as “the followers of Christ.” Therefore, they called each
other brothers or sisters. Then what does it mean “to be a follower of Christ in Taiwan?” A
deeper reflection on ‘who they really are’ is the key to the question of how Taiwanese
Mennonites can be faithful disciples of Christ in the current Taiwanese socio-cultural
environment. Therefore, Mennonite ecclesiology is relevant for the Taiwanese as they
reflect on their identity.
Menno Simons, the most outstanding leader of the sixteenth century Anabaptists9
and after whom the Mennonite churches were named, mentions that the church is a
community of believers. The church that completely observes the Lord’s commandments
is the true church, otherwise it is the church of the antichrist. 10 In their Confession of Faith,
the contemporary Mennonites refine the definition of church to say
the church is the assembly of those who have accepted God’s offer of
salvation through faith in Jesus Christ. The church is the new community
of disciples sent into the world to proclaim the reign of God and provide
a foretaste of the church’s glorious hope. The church is the new society
established and sustained by the Holy Spirit. The church, the body of
Christ, is called to become ever more like Jesus Christ, its head, in its
worship, ministry, witness, mutual love and care, and the ordering of its
common life.11
Accordingly, the church is a visible missional community of brotherly love which
exemplifies the true humanity of Christ and mediates in the hostile world through the power
of the Holy Spirit.
A Visible Community
The church as the body of Christ is visible, made up of those who have openly
chosen to positively respond to God's grace in Christ. The church itself is also “the visible
manifestation of Jesus Christ. The church exists as a community of believers in the local
congregation, as a community of congregations, and as the worldwide community of faith.” 12
Therefore, “the church would not simply be known to God alone,” as Arnold Snyder (1999)
9
George, Timothy, Theology of the Reformers, (Nashville, TN: Broadman Press), p. 255.
10
Wenger, J. C. ed. The Complete Writings of Menno Simons, Scottdale, Pennsylvania: Herald Press,
1956, p.734.
11
Confession of Faith in a Mennonite Perspective, article 9, published by Herald Press, 1995, 39.
12
Ibid., 40.
says, “but should be evident to any human observer.” It is persuasive to say that “wherever
the church is, Christ is there.” The church itself is the presence of Christ.
The Household of God

Mennonites insist that a true church is a brotherhood-love church. “Only in the
fellowship of the body of Christ can the believer realize his convictions that he cannot come
to God in good conscience except with his brother.” 13 The concept of a brotherhood church
implies that salvation is not only an individual positive response to God’s grace, but also a
socio-economic commitment. The one who converts to Christ also simultaneously commits
to a new faithful community. Therefore, the church is the brand new household, or family,
of God. Life Together is an eye-catching character of the new community. Mutual financial
support between parent and child, and between brothers is considered a familial
responsibility in Taiwan. Economic sharing in a church could be an extraordinary witness
to Taiwanese that the church is a new heavenly family in which the relationship of its
members goes beyond kinship.
Suffering as a Mark of a True Church

W hen the Taiwan Presbyterian Church, responding to the crisis of Taiwan’s loss
of membership in the United Nations in 1971, announced their Declaration on the Destiny
of Taiwan and their Declaration on Human Rights, which resulted in a long-lasting
surveillance of Presbyterians by the Kuomintang, the Mennonites sympathized with the
Presbyterians, but kept silent, because they feared that the small Mennonite community
would not survive if opposing the government. They did not object in public to compulsory
military service for the same reason. Although the Taiwan Presbyterian Church has served
as pioneer in socio-political reform in Taiwan, as Rubinstein (2003) comments, “the church
could not act in the political realm without risking its own destruction as a religious body.”
(248-249) Mennonites, however, should characterize their political identity differently. Volf
(1996), who is not a M ennonite, notes that “religion must be de-ethnicized so that ethnicity
can be de-sacralized.” (49) Christians have to distance themselves from their own cultures
(Volf 1996, 50).
The cost of being faithful followers of Christ is always very high. First generation
Anabaptists all died within five years, from 1525 to1530. The publication of The Bloody
Theater (or Martyr’s Mirror, the defenseless Christians who baptized only upon confession
of faith, and who suffered and died for the testimony of Jesus, their Saviour, from the time
of Christ to the year A.D. 1660) symbolizes the Mennonite concept of radical discipleship.
Nowadays, talking about a suffering church in 21 st century Taiwan seems strange. But the
unwillingness of suffering of a Christian body for the sake of Christ will inevitably hinder
13
Friedmann, Robert, The Theology of Anabaptism, (Herald Press, 1973), 81. Quoted in Sawatzky
1980, 206.
its witness. Christians should be faithfully taking their own cross and following after Jesus
Christ regardless what the cost is, even unto death like the early Anabaptists did.
In-betweenness: the Church in the World

The sixteenth century Anabaptists developed a Christ-against-culture two-kingdom
theology that sharply separated the church from the world. Their doctrines included the
views that the church is the true presence of Christ and has participated in the perfection of
Christ, and that the “world” is outside of the perfection of Christ. Although the Mennonites
modified it to a more moderate form, the Mennonites still distinguish the church from other
worldly organizations or institutions. The early Anabaptists had already presupposed that
the church, the physical members of Christ’s Body, incarnated the Christ who had risen and
was now sitting next to God the Father (Snyder 1995, 351). True communion and unity with
Christ is possible only in the place where a congregation is gathered. However, on this side
of heaven, Christians live in this world not as permanent residents, but as campers in an
alien country. Therefore, the deepest identity for Taiwanese Mennonites is not to be
Taiwanese, nor Chinese, but Christians, true humanity redeemed through Jesus Christ.
Christians’ primary identity should be “resident aliens” because their ultimate citizenship
is in Heaven. Therefore, ethnic or national loyalty is always secondary, second to the loyalty
of following Jesus’ example and loving one’s enemies/neighbors. Racial or cultural
nationalism is NOT compatible with Christian theology. A proper Christian theology of
identity should integrate the message that “[a]t the very core of Christian identity lies an all-
encompassing change of loyalty, from a given culture with its gods to the God of all
cultures” (Volf 1996, 40). Accordingly, Taiwanese Mennonites should be more confident
with their new identity in Christ and become more sectarian. They can confidently declare
that we are members of the visible household of God. W e are a part of God’s new creation
in Christ. W e are partakers of the community of hope through the Holy Spirit. W e are
heavenly citizens who happen to live in Taiwan. W e are now in-between this world and the
coming consummation of the new heaven and new earth at the return of Jesus Christ. Our
goals are to rebind the fragmented churches in Taiwan into one new Christianity, to mediate
the hostile ethnic groups into one new Taiwaneseness, and to pacify the restless parties on
the two sides of the Taiwan Strait into one new humanity.
Mennonites in Taiwan would better proclaim a Christian gospel which is
interpreted as the power of loosing and binding: loosing the people from earthly bondage
and binding them to a heavenly relationship. (Matt. 16:19) Through Christ, the church is the
new creation, and the members of the church belong to the new creation. They belong to the
new, so their activities and behavior have also been renewed. They live according to their
new heavenly origin, not to the old earthly origin. They now anticipate the coming
consummation by God’s grace. They love one another like family members, although they
are not brothers from the perspective of natural genealogy. Mennonites believe that it is
God’s Gospel which comforts social orphans when their parents forsake them. (Cf. Psa.
27:10) The Gospel promises that whoever does the will of God is Jesus’ brother and sister
and mother. (Matt. 12:50) The Gospel tells the Taiwanese “when anyone is in Christ, there
is a new world; the old order has lost its power, the new one has been created.” (2 Cor. 5:17)
Conclusion
Taiwan’s socio-economic situation has changed in more recent year, but
Mennonites believe that the Christian gospel is always relevant to the Taiwanese. The
Mennonite Church in Taiwan when it fully rediscovers its theological insights from its
traditions can be an example of an alternative new Taiwanese identity, speaking to the whole
of Taiwanese society with a different voice.
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THE CHANGING FACE OF THE PROTESTANT CHURCH IN CHINA
Kevin Xiyi Yao
The shift southward has been one of the most significant developments of global
Christianity after the Second W orld War. 1 The miraculous re-birth and growth of churches
in China is no doubt one of the highlights of this development. The story of Chinese
Protestant churches after 1949 has been well told. How western missionaries were forced
out of the country, how the churches were drastically and radically re-shaped by the Three-
self Movement, how the activities of churches were increasingly restricted since the late
1950s, and eventually outlawed during the Cultural Revolution, and how the churches came
to life and has been experiencing steady growth since the 1980s all testify to the
achievements of more than one hundred years of missionary efforts and resilience of
Chinese Christian community, and above all of the work of God in that ancient land.
Entering the twentieth-first century, the amazing story of the Chinese church
continues to unfold. W hile the pace of growth has not slowed down, new phenomena and
dynamics are emerging. They give us, the observers of Protestant Christianity in China, new
hope, and also pose new challenges.
Since the 1950s the state-church relationship has ever been a crucial factor in the
evolution of church in China. The church life is very much shaped and over-shadowed by
government religious policy and the church’s attitude toward that authority. It continues
to be so after the 1980s. As the communist party started its reform campaign, it
acknowledged tremendous complexity and the persistence of the religious issue, and
restored the practice of a united front and a policy of religious tolerance. Its law and policy
protect citizens’ religious rights. No longer condemning religion as opium of the people, the
party now realizes that religion could be a positive or stabilizing force to the regime and to
society, if guided and controlled properly. To help and guide religion to be a force of this
kind has become a dominant theme in its handling of religious affairs. In other words the
essence of the party’s thinking and decisions in religious affairs can be summarized in two
words: tolerance but control. To achieve their goals the party and government set up
sophisticated agencies.2 In the wake of the political changes in Eastern Europe and the
1
See Dana L. Robert, “Shifting Southward: Global Christianity since 1945,” International Bulletin
of Missionary Research, Vol. 24, No.2 ( April 2000): 50-58.
2
See Tony Lambert, The Resurrection of the Chinese Church, (London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1991),
pp27-41; David H. Adeney, China: The Church Long March, (Ventura, CA: Regal Books, 1985), capt.5,
p226;For an extensive historical survey, see Jonathan Chao, ed. Chinese Communist Policy toward Christianity,
(Chinese) (Hong Kong: Chinese Church Research Center, 1983).
Kevin Xiyi Yao, educated in China, then received a MATS degree at AMBS, followed by a
Ph.D. in mission history with Dana Robert, Brown University, and now teaches Christian
history at China Graduate School of Theology, Hong Kong.

Kevin Xiyi Yao 167
Falungong incident, the party has become more alarmed by the potential danger of losing
control of religious forces, and thus paid even greater attention to them.
The change of party policy certainly means more room for church growth, but it
also means that the state continues to play a major role in shaping church life. As we all
know, the Chinese Protestant church has been divided into the public church or Three Self-
Church and the house (or underground) church ever since the 1960s. This division occurred
largely as the consequence of different attitudes toward state intervention in church affairs.
Till today this division, instead of denominationalism, remains one of the dominant features
of the Protestant Church in China. However, throughout the 1990s, there are new
developments noteworthy in both the Three-Self Church and the house churches.
The Changing Three-Self Patriotic M ovement (TSPM )

The emergence of The Three-Self-Patriotic Movement (TSPM) and China
Christian Council (CCC) in the 1980s was no doubt a landmark event. Throughout the
1980s the TSPM spearheaded the rehabilitation and growth of the Protestant community in
China. And it was the most important, if not the only, voice for the entire church. Its
achievements are undeniable: it played a key role in re-opening churches, it reprinted
millions of copies of the Bible, it restarted theological education and trained a large number
of pastors for the churches, it facilitated the dramatic increase of number of believers, it
encouraged the churches to get involved in the social witness, it helped forge a friendly and
constructive relationship with the authority, and it helped the church open up to the outside
world and become a part of the global Christian community.
A plain fact is that the current TSPM was initiated in the 1950s. As society and
culture are getting more pluralistic, the vision and structure of the movement are facing more
challenges, and its leadership is seeking a new solution and image.
First, ever since the moment of founding, one of the major goals of the TSPM has
been to encourage believers to embrace the social and political establishment. This goal has
never changed, and the TSPM related efforts got even more intensive since the 1980s. To
adapt to socialist society and to cooperate in the socialist construction feature very
prominently in the thinking and work the TSPM.3 TSPM theologizing also reflected this
essential feature. Theologically the TSPM always places a lot of stress on God’s creation
over corrupting sin, immanence over transcendence and love over judgment. Believers are
urged to see positive value and significance in the work of non-believers, and to adopt an
affirming attitude toward socialism and the communist party. 4
3
See Wang Zuo-an, “Social Responsibilities of Religion he Case of Protestantism in Mainland China,”
in Social Function of Religions, (Chinese) ed. By C.K.Lee, (Hong Kong: Chinese Christian literature Council.ltd.,
2004) pp 3-9.
4
See Deng Fu-cun, “Basic Approach of Theological Construction in China,” in Christianity and
Chinese Culture: A Sino-Nordic Conference on Chinese Contexual Theology (August 13-17, 2003, Lapland,
Finland), (Chinese) eds, by Luo Ming-jia & Paul Huang (Beijing: China Social Sciences Press, 2004) 358-368.
168 Changing Face of the Protestant Church in China
In recent years, under the leadership of Bishop Ding Guangxun (also known as
K.H.Ting), the TSPM has launched a campaign of theological construction. In Bishop
Ding‘s view, one of the weaknesses of the Chinese church is the lack of extensive
theological thinking. In order to meet the challenge, the church needs more theologizing. As
a result, a series of conferences have been organized, and church leaders are encouraged to
spend time on theological reflection and writing. Bishop Ding’s theology provides most of
the inspiration and guidance for this campaign. Ding makes efforts to downplay the
differences between belief and non-belief and to highlight the central place of love in
Christian faith. 5 All these theological efforts aim at laying the foundation for the integration
of the Christian community in a socialist society.
However, Ding’s theology and theological campaign have been challenged from
the very beginning. As the theological scene of the Chinese church has become much more
diversified, strong critique of his theology can be heard from time to time. Although the
national leadership of the TSPM has tried very hard to advocate his theology within the
movement, it is not well-received at the grass-roots level, and most local churches are
theologically still under heavy influence of the evangelical tradition.6 As more and more
theological schools are being introduced to China, it is extremely difficult, if not impossible,
to reach an extensive consensus in theological thinking of the church. In the rural area where
churches are often inadequately ministered, rampant heretical teachings continue to pose a
serious threat to the TSPM as well as to the house churches.
Secondly, since the 1980s the number of seminaries and Bible schools under the
TSPM system has grown from none to about twenty. However, the existing theological
educational institutions still cannot meet the demand of fast growing churches. In most
regions a pastor finds himself or herself minister not only to a large urban congregation but
also to a network of rural meeting points connected with the central congregation.
Inadequately trained and overworked pastors often have little chances for sabbatical and
updating of their knowledge and skills. Increasingly the church has a hard time taking care
of churches in the countryside and has no resources to handle the new issues of the urban
churches.7
Thirdly, since the 1990s house churches have experienced phenomenal growth. The
TSPM seems to be outgrown quantitatively and qualitatively by the house church
movement. The TSPM status as the only voice of Protestant church in China is apparently
becoming history, and its legitimacy is being increasingly questioned.
5
For his theology, see “Caring for God Creation, the Cosmic Christ, Understanding the Heart of God,”
in Love Never Ends, Papers by K.H.Ting, ed. By Janice Wickeri, (Beijing, Yilin Press, 2000).
6
For a systematic critique of Ding’s theology, see Li Xin-yuan, “Example of Non-believers’ Critique
of The Selective Works of Ding Guangxun,” in Christian Life Quarterly (Vol.2, No.4, June 2000, Vol.5, No.1,
march 2001) www.cclife.org/htdocs/cclife.nsf
7
See “An Interview on the Present-Day Church Situation,” 1990, Love Never Ends, Papers by
K.H.Ting, pp 396-397.
Kevin Xiyi Yao 169
Fourthly, Chinese society and culture are undergoing tremendous changes. And the
reformed society is vastly different and much more pluralistic now than before. Generally
speaking, changes and reform in the TSPM lag behind society. In comparison, the way of
thinking and some of policies set by the TSPM leadership are apparently the products of the
1950s, and out of touch with reality. This fact explains the recent conflict between TSPM
leadership and Chinese academia. For the former, some scholars go too far in their studies
of sensitive issues such as of the W estern missionary enterprise before 1949.8
Fifthly, after China’s entry into the W TO, the country’s process of integration into
the international community is unstoppable. The overseas Christian communities
increasingly have more channels to bypass the TSPM national leadership and develop
relationship with local congregations. These outside influences are considerably beyond the
TSPM control.
Finally, the TSPM has its own problems, too. The authoritative style of the
decision-making process, power-struggles and even corruption have tarnished its image
among ordinary believers and created a lot of frustration and disillusionment in its rank of
church workers. The governmental control and intervention have certainly contributed to
these problems. The hope seems to lie in the younger generation of church leaders who are
not satisfied with the status quo and have aspiration for changes.
Changing Face of House Church M ovement

Since the 1990s the house church has been the fastest growing sector of
Protestantism in China. 9 How to define the house church is always a tricky issue. I would
argue that what distinguishes the house churches is their attitude toward the TSPM: they all
maintain their independence from the TSPM. The house churches are not necessarily
underground, and some of them have successfully registered with the government, and
become the so-called independent church. And the house churches are not anti-government.
In fact they all accept the teachings of Romans 13. But all house churches hold hostility,
suspicion, mistrust or at least reservations about the TSPM, for they perceive the TSPM
largely as a governmental tool to control the church, or at least as too closely tied to the
authorities.10 In addition, they are offended by the TSPM and some of its leaders’ roles in
the past persecution of the church and apparent lack of spiritual vitality of some TSPM
leaders and congregations.
8
In recent years the TSPM leadership has been criticizing some scholars for embracing and advocating
a much more favorable view of Western missionaries. The concern is that the historical legitimacy of the TSPM
as a movement of anti-imperialist influence within Chinese church is challenged. See Luo Guang-zong ed. Do
Not Forget the Past: How Imperialists used Christianity to Invade China, (Chinese), (Beijing, The Press of
Religious Culture, 2003).
9
For the development of the house churches in the 1990s, see Jonathan Chao & Rosanna Chong, A
History of Christianity in Socialist China, 1949-1997, (Taipei, Taiwan: CMI Publishing Co., 1997), 673-684).
10
See Epaphras Wu Wei-zun, “What is wrong with the TSPM?” in Christian Life Quarterly (Chinese)
(Vol.7, No.4, December 2003).
From the very beginning the house churches have demonstrated certain well-known
features: they are theologically evangelical, highly indigenized, heavily relying on lay
involvement and leadership, and show zeal for evangelism.
As Chinese society is increasingly pluralized, and the government is retreating from
some arenas of social life, the house churches find unprecedented needs and opportunities
for the Gospel. In the meantime, political, intellectual and cultural environments are
becoming much more complex. It is no wonder that some important new developments can
be detected in the house churches.
First, till the mid-1990s the house churches were still strongest in rural areas, and
many of their members tended to be elderly and women or poorly educated people from
lower classes. However, in recent years the highest growth rate is with house churches in
urban areas. Chinese intellectuals used to be one of the groups most hostile to the gospel.
But recent evangelization among urban intellectuals (especially relatively younger
generation) and professionals is very successful. Campus evangelism is also developing very
rapidly. Today it is not difficult to find college professors and lawyers in urban house
churches, and some of them have taken up leadership roles. It is fair to say that the center
of house churches is shifting, and the features and make-up of house churches are changing
drastically. On the other hand, many churches in rural areas are experiencing and decline
and crisis largely due to economic down-turns and migration of labor forces.
Secondly, if their theological orientation is still dominated by the evangelical
tradition, the style of worship and administration of urban house churches definitely reflect
their urban roots. In some ways church life seems more modern or westernized. An
increasing number of church members are converted from a non-Christian background. The
churches set up different types of fellowship to cater to the needs of different social groups.
Nowadays it is not difficult to find Christian fellowships for businessman, house wife, and
the elderly, etc. The churches are usually more open to cultural and social issues.11
Thirdly, the TSPM claims that the Chinese church is in a post-denominational era.
But recent signs indicate that certain denominational divisions or identities begin to re-
emerge. Some belong to indigenous traditions such as Little Flock, and others have foreign
origins. (Calvinism has become very influential among house churches in some major cities
recently).
Fourthly, theological education is badly needed by both rural and urban churches.
The insufficient theological training has left room for heretic teachings to spread.
Fifthly, if the house churches maintain their momentum of growth, it is possible
that the TSM P will be marginalized in the future. How soon this happens depends very
11
For a survey of characters of urban house churches, see Gao Shi-ning, “The Beliefs of Urban
Christian Community in China: A Case Study of Beijing,” in Christianity and Chinese Culture: A Sino-Nordic
Conference on Chinese Contexual Theology (August 13-17, 2003, Lapland, Finland), eds, by Luo Ming-jia &
Paul Huang (Beijing: China Social Sciences Press, 2004), pp292-304.
Kevin Xiyi Yao 171
much on the religious policy of the government. The new regulation of the State Council,
issued in March of 2005, seems to allow any church to be legitimized by registering with
the authority. Some house churches are seriously considering making the move toward
registration.
Finally, once more religious freedom is granted, house churches would face
tremendous opportunities as well as challenges. For one thing, how to coordinate and
organize thousands of independent churches across the country into a kind of system or
network is an urgent issue.
W e must realize that the division between the T SPM and house churches is not
absolute. The suspicion and hostility between them at the top level may be deep-rooted and
intense. But it is much less so at the grass-roots level. In fact, there is often considerable
cooperation between the TSPM and house congregations. The reconciliation between two
traditions has already happened and is likely to be completed as circumstances change.
Christians W ithin Chinese Academia

If you focus on churches (the TSPM as well as house church) only, you get only
part of the picture of Protestantism in contemporary China. This is an amazing feature of the
Christian story in China in recent decades. Since the 1980s the Christian influence in
Chinese society has been advanced by not only churches but also by other forces, primarily
academia. If we can consider the TSPM and the house churches as the first and second
forces, we may recognize Chinese academia as the third force.
An increasing number of scholars interested in and even having a favorible view
of Christianity is certainly a new phenomenon in Chinese intellectual history. For over one
thousand years of Christian presence in China, the Chinese intellectual community had
always been either ignorant or critical of Christianity. In the wake of the Cultural
Revolution, many intellectuals got disillusioned with both Chinese traditional culture and
the Marxist experiment, and began to seek a new meaning of life and future path for the
Chinese nation and society. As a result, some of them turned their eyes to Christianity.
They found that Christian teaching makes a lot of sense in their search for a new
world view and meaning of life, and Christianity can play a crucial role in China cultural
transformation. Therefore, they developed a very favorable view of Christianity and even
a great deal of sympathy with it. In their mind, the spread of Christianity in China is in the
best interest of the nation. M ost of these intellectuals got to know Christianity through their
own studies and reflection on Chinese cultural history, but not through church experience.
It is also through their own studies that they gained a more advanced knowledge of
Christianity than most of the church workers and seminary faculty have.
Generally speaking, these intellectuals tend to treat Christianity as a philosophical
and cultural phenomenon. Most of them have difficulty in accepting Christian faith. For this
reason they are given the name of cultural Christians. They usually do not maintain a lasting
and deep relationship with the church. For most of them, church life, at least in the TSPM
churches, is more tailored to the less-educated people. Their studies of Christianity and
advocating of Christian values are largely carried outside the TSPM system. As the fruits
of the TSPM theological construction are yet to come, current theological discourse in
China is still dominated by these so-called cultural Christians.12 The contributions of
Chinese academia to Chinese Christianity have been widely acknowledged. They have
played a major part in changing the image of Christianity in the eyes of the general public.
Through their efforts Christian ideas have become a very significant force in the overall
landscape of Chinese intellectual life. For one thing they are the driving force behind the
blossoming of Christian studies programs in China’s universities and research institutions.
It is no wonder that Bishop Ding made some very favorable comments about them.13
Today most of these cultural Christians are in their late fifties or sixties. The new
generation of intellectuals in the field of Christian studies in China has demonstrated a very
different spiritual outlook.14 Professionally just as vigorous as their previous generation,
some of the young scholars have accepted Christian faith, and are involved in the church,
especially the house church. They engage in theological reflection not just as a purely
academic interest but as a way to directly serve the church. Most of these young Christian
intellectuals hold teaching or researching positions outside the church, but actively
participate in church life.
In the past the churches and Christian studies developed rather separately in China.
As a young generation of Christian scholars arrives on the scene, the situation is bound to
change. An integration of house churches and intellectuals is underway. The trend seems to
further strengthen the house church movement and give it an edge over the TSPM.
As we look back at church growth in China for the past twenty-five years, God ‘s
work is so amazing and so mind-boggling. The influence of Christianity in Chinese society
spread at unprecedented speed and in many unexpected ways. Always caught by surprise,
churches in China as well as abroad often find themselves trying to understand the new
phenomena and fast changing situation, and to catch up, instead of trail-blazing for the
Gospel in China. As Chinese society and culture are undergoing fast and fundamental
changes, we can be sure that there will be new surprises to come. W e can witness the
amazing work of God and be called to be a part of it. Just as China’s economic take-off has
already made a significant impact on the global economy, the substantial growth of the
Chinese church may have a similar effect on global Christianity.
Mennonite missionaries came to China in the early twentieth century. Ever since
12
For a full scholarly discussion of this phenomenon, see Cultural Christians: Phenomenon and
Argument, (Chinese), (Hong Kong: Institute of Sino-Christian Studies, 1997).
13
See Works of Ding Guangxun, (Chinese),(Beijing, Yilin Press, 1998), p 488.
14
An excellent survey of Christian studies in China and different generations of scholars in the field
is “The New Trend of Christian Studies in China” by Dong Jiang Yang, CGST Journal, No.39 (July 2005): 223-
233.
Kevin Xiyi Yao 173
then they remained a part of the Protestant missionary movement in China. A uniquely
Anabaptist voice can scarcely be heard in the past as well as in the present. Nevertheless,
in my view, Anabaptism has a lot to contribute in the Chinese context. As churches grow
very rapidly and take in many new converts, the Anabaptist emphasis on discipleship is very
significant in building up the community of believers. As China faces potential internal and
external conflicts, the Anabaptist message of peace-making is very relevant, and can equip
the believers well in their social witness. Therefore, the opportunities that Mennonites are
facing in China are tremendous.
FOR UM : M ISSION STUDIES IN THEOLOGICAL EDUCATION - CURRENT
DIRECTIONS
Darrell W hiteman, Jehu Hanciles, James Stamoolis, W alter Sawatsky (moderator)
Sawatsky: The panelists represent three schools with well known specialization in mission
studies, whose influence on M ennonite missiology has been extensive. They will address
three sets of questions, speaking as individuals with experience and expertise, while
referring to their schools - W hiteman, who is Dean of Asbury Seminary’s E. Stanley Jones
School of W orld M ission and Evangelism (ESJ), Hanciles, who is teaching at Fuller
Seminary, School of Intercultural Studies (which celebrated its 40 th anniversary in early
November 2005) and Stamoolis, who in July became Dean of Trinity College and Graduate
School, which are part of Trinity International University.
Now to my questions: the first one has to do with vision. How would you
describe the primary vision for establishing special schools of mission at your institution?
W hat are the major stages of shift in vision since then, and the shift in emphasis that you and
your colleagues talk about the most? Can you say something about this shift in
nomenclature that we have noticed in the last decade from “mission” to “intercultural
studies”?
Vision and Nomenclature

Hanciles: Thank You. I will start with a disclaimer. I am almost certainly not the best
qualified to discuss the shift of vision that has shaped our School of International Studies
(SIS) in the last eight to ten years. Firstly, I am the first and only African on the Fuller
faculty; and secondly, because my knowledge of the American evangelical landscape is
largely second-hand. My representation here this afternoon should not be considered the
“authorized version.”
W hen I finished my Ph.D. studies in 1995 I taught in Zimbabwe and was a lecturer
in church history. W hen I was teaching in Africa the curriculum had no distinction between
church history and mission history. Such a distinction would have been superfluous. Much
of African church history is mission history and vice-versa. The western missionary project
This forum, moderated by conference host Walter Sawatsky, concluded the conference on
Mission in Global and Anabaptist Perspective. Biographical details are contained in the
text: Darrell Whiteman is Director of ESJ School of World Mission and Evangelism at
Asbury Theological Seminary, Wilmore KY; Jehu Hanciles is Assoc. Professor of Mission
History and Globalization in the School of Intercultural Studies, Fuller Theological
Seminary; James Stamoolis, professor of Biblical studies, is Senior Vice President of
Academic Affairs and Dean of Trinity College and Trinity Graduate School, at Trinity
International University in Deerfield, IL.

W hitem an, Hanciles, Stam oolis 175
still influences the identity of most churches. Missionary engagement with the surrounding
culture is still a major preoccupation for the church, in its life and very existence. But then
I came to the U.S. in 1998 and entered a radically different environment where church
history and mission history are considered very distinct, separate entities, reflecting a
particular western tradition. Fuller epitomizes this distinction. W e have three schools, the
School of Psychology, the School of Theology and the School of W orld Mission.
Now the distinction I am talking about was reinforced and continues to be
reinforced in a number of ways: administrative autonomy is one, competition for students
is another. Mutual ideological suspicion between the schools is yet another. In my mind,
in many ways, this dichotomy seems to reflect that awful dichotomy between thinking and
doing or between theological or intellectual emphasis that I think plagues evangelicalism.
Over the last five to eight years, however, the institution began to witness a barely detectable
change. Some of this has been concrete and visible. Appointments of outside scholars like
W ilbert Shenk broke the chain of inbreeding - I mean appointing scholars who were trained
at Fuller and so on. The appointment of new deans who came afresh to this position, who
came with new ideas and initiatives for greater collaboration between the two schools
(theology and mission), broke the old mold so to speak. Joint faculty meetings are still very
interesting. But the one big issue was this issue of the name change. So after I joined the
faculty, this issue increasingly dominated faculty discussion and interaction.
There seem to be two main considerations driving the argument for change. One
is the fact that the words “world mission” were increasingly problematic in a new global
context where it sort of reflected an unhelpful connotation of imperial designs. If you agree
with me that image is everything, then you know that to use the term “world mission” is
unhelpfully imperialistic in this new global context. The second consideration is that the
name significantly undermined employment possibilities for non-westerners or for those
working in a non-western context, where coming from a school of world mission raised far
too many questions. But it especially exposed graduates working in Islamic contexts to
considerable risk. So these were the compelling reasons. I also had in my own mind an
additional reason. I felt that the term “world mission” was a bit of false advertising. The
scope in the curriculum I would not describe as ‘world’. W e had a faculty made up almost
entirely of Caucasian Anglo-American males. All had considerable knowledge and
experience in the non-western world, but it seemed to me that it didn’t reflect what you
would imagine. Many students confessed to me this was not what they imagined when they
saw the name “world mission.” So there was recognition of a need for a change. As you
would expect, recognizing the need for change and implementing that change are two
completely different affairs. The process seemed never-ending.
The name change to School of Intercultural Studies turned out to be one of the
most involved tortuous, complicated, sometimes conflictual processes. It was a most
illuminating demonstration of the limitations of democracy. Endless faculty discussions,
176 Forum : Mission Studies in Theological Education - Current Directions
joint faculty discussions, all constituencies had to have input. No viewpoint was
uncontested. Really what we faced was the need to strike a balance between preserving a
global vision with a clear statement of commitment to training men and woman for
manifold ministries, in this case, manifold forms of missionary engagement in the
contemporary world. How was a name eventually chosen? I really do not know. To be fair,
I think the decision was somewhat legislative. I think “intercultural studies” seemed to be
the most acceptable to the most powerful constituencies. I am not sure in my own mind if
the faculty in our school would have chosen it. I also have to say, that whereas the need for
the name change derived from non-western concerns and experiences, the actual name
chosen was mainly informed by western needs. “Intercultural studies” speaks to a western
understanding, a kind of western view of what is needed to represent the new vision. So we
went from [the acronym] SW N to SIS and opened ourselves to being called SISies!
The word ‘intercultural’ certainly fulfilled the central objective. It takes care of the
original problem. Moving away from an empty unrealistic statement about mission, it
signifies, after a fashion, that the school is focused on the study of cultures, changing
societies, and the witness of the church in the new context informed by biblical and
theological reflections. Personally, I feel the term ‘intercultural’ is overused and a
somewhat bankrupt concept in the current global context. You don’t have to leave Pasadena
California to be intercultural. If we are trying to signify a new global vision, a new global
engagement, intercultural really sells that vision short, in my mind. But again, it seemed to
be one of those compromise things.
My final comment in answering this question is that at the end of the day the name
change really doesn’t mean that much. I know image is critical. But from my point of view
the things that count as we try to grapple with theological education in the current global
context derive not from what we call ourselves so much as from those small initiatives in the
area of curriculum design, structure and development, how we handle and become creative
in missiological concepts, how we transform our library resources and bibliographical
references, and how we work to foster a diverse student body. W e can change the name, and
retain the same courses and maintain the same parochial mentality and outlook. If so, what
have we achieved? I think that at the end of the day whatever name you see is really less
important than how we make changes on the ground.
Whiteman: Let me speak about Asbury’s E. Stanley Jones School of W orld Mission and
Evangelism. Asbury Seminary, for many years, as well as Asbury College, was known for
its hundreds of missionaries all over the world. They were serious about mission and
evangelism and people were going out from those two institutions on a regular basis. So
they began thinking - ‘shouldn’t we go further than just having our alumni be missionaries?
Shouldn’t we be serious about real doctoral level missiological study?’ W ell when they
thought about the name, they picked someone who had a history with Asbury. E. Stanley
Jones was a graduate of Asbury College, not Asbury Seminary, and E. Stanley Jones turned
out to be the perfect name for us to fly our banner under. E. Stanley Jones was a Methodist
missionary in India. He hung out with the Holiness, W esleyan type of people from camp
meetings and they loved him for that. But the more Kingdom oriented people whom we
would call today the more mainline denominations couldn’t understand why Jones hung
around with those camp meeting types. But they loved him because he was always talking
about the Kingdom of God. The Holiness people said we really like Jones at our camp
meetings but he is almost a communist. So Jones lived with that tension throughout his life,
and turned out to be just a wonderful person to represent us because he held in tension
beautifully evangelism and social responsibility. That is what we have done in our school.
Jones’ first book was Christ of the Indian Road. Contextualization has been one of those
themes that dominated our whole curriculum. So it was relevant to have Jones in the 1920s
writing a book that recognized the importance of the gospel connecting to culture, even
though he had quite different categories than we use today.
In 1980 Asbury Seminary tried to recruit me. I was a young missionary out in the
jungles of New Guinea, had landed the perfect job and was planning on staying at least 25
years. Maybe when I got a few grey whiskers I would think about possibly going to a
seminary and teaching from my experience. W hen they kept pushing me I said, “so why in
the world do we need another school of world mission? W e already have a great one, it is
Fuller in Pasadena.” I had spent a year and a half there in the mid seventies as a visiting
scholar while I was finishing up my Ph.D.in Anthropology. W ell, they said Trinity is also
a good school but we need a school in the W esleyan tradition. Later I would discover how
W esleyan I am, but at that stage it wasn’t all that important.
Asbury had two mission professors J.T. Seamands who grew up in India as a
missionary kid, and had gone back to India as a missionary. Asbury’s most famous
professor at that time was Robert Coleman, professor of evangelism. So we had a mission
person and an evangelism person and they said it is time to think seriously about a school.
The ESJ was launched in the sunset years of one president, and they raised what they
thought was 3 million dollars in order to build a school. Then the new president came and
said we better find out where this money is. W e had raised money, but not three million
dollars, only three hundred thousand. By that time the faculty had been called and we were
going to do a Ph.D program. A building was being built which we never did occupy by the
way. W ell, that started a crisis right from the very beginning. W e had a hard time fighting
for our life. Now you would have thought we would have been embraced by the school of
theology faculty; but suddenly turf became very important. There were only so many dollars
to go around even though we serve the King who owns the cattle on a thousand hills. So for
quite a few years we had quite a bit of tension.
The school was started in 1983, I joined in 1984. In February of 1986 the
President decided that this wasn’t working. So he called us all into his office one day and
said that it had been a hard decision to make but we’re going to close ESJ. But he told us
not to worry because he had jobs for all of us. Now the president was a personal friend of
mine. I told him that not one of us is here because of a job. W e are all here because of
passion, a vision of training a new generation of cross-cultural witnesses to help inform
church leaders around the world. W ell we left his personal private office and went to the
big faculty meeting and he announced the closing. That was on Monday. W e had an old-
fashioned 1960s student revolt on campus because the most exciting stuff that was being
taught at Asbury was coming out of the School of W orld Mission. It was fresh. It was new.
It was provocative. By W ednesday, the president was called to an emergency meeting in
Dallas Texas with the executive committee of the board. By Friday he was back on campus
and we were back in his office. He said, “I made a mistake.” The School of W orld Mission
had not died. It was alive and well and from that day on we have been flourishing.
W e thought that our audience would be missionaries from Oriental Missionary
Society (OMS), Methodist missionaries, Free Methodist missionaries, and they weren’t.
Then one of our problems was that Robert Coleman decided to leave Asbury and go to
Trinity. W hat that signaled to the W esleyan Holiness camp meeting crowd was that this new
School of W orld Mission was going to be liberal and really wasn’t safe. In fact, some of our
own faculty at Asbury spread that rumor. W ell we had to work with that tension for a while,
but eventually we got through that. It turned out that the largest number of students we had
of any one denomination came from the Southern Baptists. As the fundamentalist takeover
of the Southern Baptist convention got more powerful they couldn’t hear anything from
someone who wasn’t also Southern Baptist. And so we graduated our last Southern Baptist
student this last May. W e’ve had an Australian Catholic do his degree with us. W e’ve had
Anglicans. We’ve had Pentecostals. Students from many other traditions who have now
joined us and now eventually the OMS crowd has sent a few missionaries to train with us
and Free Methodist as well.
W e have one Ph.D. program in intercultural studies. W e have just received a big
endowment from the Foundation for Evangelization and starting in the fall we are going to
have a Ph.D. in Evangelization Studies. So we will have two Ph.D. programs. The
foundation will provide the salary, the overhead plus 50.000 dollars a year for ten years for
library acquisitions just in evangelism and mission studies. So we’re excited about that.
People think that if you start offering a Ph.D. instead of a D. Miss., the Doctor of Missiology
will fade. That hasn’t happened at all. W e have over eighty doctoral students and it is
equally divided between Ph.D. and D. Miss. W e followed Fuller in designing our program
in having different areas of concentration. So we have evangelism and church growth,
history and theology of mission, world religions and religious studies, leadership training
and behavioral sciences. W ell more than half of our students are international students and
they are what bring such a rich environment to us. The thing I like most about working with
international students and I have heard this said to me so often, “Mr. W hiteman it is really
weird that I had to come to Wilmore Kentucky to learn to appreciate and understand my
own culture. Because I have been told that my culture is rubbish. There was no value in it.
And I have discovered here through this W esleyan understanding of prevenient grace that
God’s been at work in my culture long before the mission ever got there. And now I have
been able to recover that and go back and give that teaching to our church.”
W e have a wonderful record of international students returning. W e have had 62
international students and 60 of them have returned to serve their own church. W e get that
record by continually reminding them of why they are there.
Now we did model our school somewhat after Fuller with different areas of
concentration. We also chose to call our Ph.D. intercultural studies instead of a Ph.D. in
mission and evangelism and a Ph.D . in missiology and for the same reasons: to make it
easier to get into limited access countries. But, you know, these days when you have
websites there is no way you can hide who you are. In a way that is a kind of phony
argument. These are degrees offered by a seminary and if a government wants to check that
out there is no way to camouflage that. W e will not follow Fuller in changing our name to
a School of Intercultural Studies. W e do not feel a need to do that, particularly now that we
are offering a new Ph.D. in evangelism studies. W e find it appropriate that we continue to
be the E. Stanley Jones School of W orld Mission and Evangelism.
Stamoolis: First a disclaimer. I am dean of the college and of the graduate school but not
of the seminary. There is a distinction between the graduate school and the seminary. The
seminary is TEDS, Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, and so I am not empowered to
speak for TEDS. I work for Trinity International University. TEDS and Trinity College are
both part of Trinity International University as is our law school in Southern California, our
Southern Florida campus and our South Chicago campus. I could probably say a word here
about why we are Trinity International University. W hy the International? W ell Trinity
University was already taken as a name. I think also it fits because we have probably 35
percent international students on our Deerfield campus. Our undergraduate population is
probably close to 20 percent minority. Our South Florida campus is probably 80 percent
minority maybe even close to 85 percent. Our law school is over 50 percent if you just
want to go for white Anglo-Saxon Protestants or white Caucasians. Of all the rest there are
Vietnamese and there are Hispanics. Our South Chicago Campus is predominantly African
American so we really do feel that we earn our name “international.”
Let me talk about the vision for missiological education because I can actually talk
about that, having lived through it. W hen I was a student in the seminary at TEDS there
were two faculty members in the department of missions. I happened to know, mainly
because I was a student representative on a faculty committee, that the president wanted a
school of world mission. And one of the reasons that he wanted a school of world mission
was to copy Fuller. Fuller had a School of W orld M ission and it is interesting to hear your
vision at Asbury because then the president at Trinity wanted the same thing. I went
overseas, so I am not quite certain of the exact history, when they established it, but Trinity
has a very powerful School of Intercultural Studies right now. I think the name was chosen
for reasons of our international aspect and because the Free Church, which is the sponsoring
body of Trinity, is very missions minded. Not only did we have a department of missions
but we had this push to become a school of world mission and now a school of intercultural
studies. I am impressed with my colleagues in that school, many of you know Tite Tienou,
who is Dean of the seminary (teaching there since 1996), and you probably also know Paul
Hiebert who is one of us. One of us here (among Anabaptists) and one of us there (at
Trinity) and really an inspiration to all of us.
Sawatsky: This is a side question for all three, perhaps catching you off guard. How did
your schools wrestle with the issue of hiring very able people from other continents brought
to North America versus working over there?
Stamoolis: I think a lot of us feel that this is really something that needs to be weighed
carefully. The only justification I can see is when bringing a person does more good world-
wide than leaving him in place. If you are just going to bring somebody who isn’t, in the
economy of things going to do more good, then I think you are contributing to the brain
drain. That’s not what we should do. So, I know for a fact that as a university we at TIU
want a more diverse and international faculty, and we’re making our hiring decisions along
those lines. But I think at the same time we want to be very sensitive to how we support our
sisters and brothers in other parts of the world.
Sawatsky: Any quick comments on this side question?
Whiteman: W e struggle with this one a lot. W hen we hired Terry Muck in world religions
it came down to two people. One was a man from south Asia who had the perfect pedigree,
absolutely perfect and the faculty of the School of Theology wanted us to hire this person.
Plus he was a graduate of Fuller and had reportedly studied under Paul Hiebert. But as we
quizzed him about his understanding of God’s work within his own Hindu religion which
he had come from, there was no evidence that he had any understanding. W e sensed that
for him all that was in the past, was rubbish, and needed to be dumped; it was so unlike an
irenic spirit that we know Paul Hiebert has. Later we discovered that he was a first
generation convert and sometimes first generation converts are pretty angry with their
background. But we were a little bit conflicted as faculty members, because here was our
chance to get an international person. I said I don’t think we should be taking him away
from his work in Asia. He had gone back to serve the Methodist church in evangelism there
and he clearly wasn’t the better of the two choices and we ended up not hiring him. We
think in the end we made the right decision, but it was not easy. Now we have two new
openings coming up for next year and we’re up against exactly the same thing. It’s not right
for us to determine God’s will for another person. That God can lead those people to a little
town like W ilmore is possible. But we need to help them search through the question
process of where is God going to use them most effectively - that’s the issue.
Sawatsky: Let me pick up the next question: in light of this conference on evangelical,
ecumenical, Anabaptist perspectives, how would you reflect on and assess the international
impact of your programs? Are there alumni setting direction in mission internationally? Or
are there major publications or congresses that you would point to? Do you focus on
specific regions, like new schools of missiology in Africa or Eurasia? In general, what is the
international impact of your school? So do you want to start Jehu, with the previous
question about appointments? And then also the impact of how one thinks about Fuller as
a family of alumni who are everywhere?
Hanciles: The brain drain issues are far more complex than I think we often realize. I just
want to make a couple of points. One has to do with the N orth American side and the
understanding of diversity. If hiring a non-westerner is simply a way of getting a different
face on the faculty, if it is about image, then of course it’s really a waste of time. And by
the way, there are non-western scholars who are more western in their training and in their
thinking than westerners. So I think we need to be very clear about what kind of diversity
we are looking for. W e’re looking for someone who would bring not only a high level of
scholarship to the institution but also new perspectives, new ideas and new ways of opening
frontiers from an intellectual point of view for the students.
There is another aspect to the brain drain worth commenting on. Sometimes I get
the impression from concerns raised about the drain, that it is almost as if Africa, Latin
America, Asia, have already produced their best. They don’t have the capacity to produce
more. So if we deprive them of the little they have then that’s it. That actually sounds fairly
arrogant because for every Jehu produced, there are many more coming out of Africa and
working in Africa. That is the first point. But there is also the fact that from a global point
of view and global interactions, I could argue that my being here doesn’t mean that Africa
is deprived of me. In many respects Africa benefits more from where I am. That’s a
personal comment. But there is also the fact that if we are to take seriously the new shape
of global Christianity and the fact that we are training students going into contexts that are
increasingly diverse whether they live in the U.S. or Canada W e as institutions have to rise
to the challenge of providing the kind of faculty engagement and interaction for them that
prepare them for that kind of world, which for many institutions means seeking the right
kind of faculty mix. It serves global Christianity in more ways than we can imagine. And
lastly, someone once said “brain drain is better than brain decay,” which is to say that if I
had remained in Sierra Leone I would not be gainfully employed anyway. There are many
people for whom this is true. If they had remained, they would have been forced to move,
by the nature of the circumstances and environment in parts of the world. So whether they
had been hired here or elsewhere they would have moved.
How International?
Hanciles: This is one area where Fuller and the School of Intercultural Studies really have
a resounding record. Our school’s impact globally in terms of mission studies and
missionary thinking and awareness is huge. I wish I was more qualified to give details. If
I remember correctly we have over three thousand graduates from our school all over the
world. What I am going to do is mention a few names in different parts of the world
because I can’t think of any other way to indicate Fuller’s and the School of Intercultural
Studies global contribution. There is Antonio Barro, founder and president of the South
American Theological Seminary in B razil, a Fuller graduate. The first president of the
Korean missiological society is a woman, Dr. Kwang-Soon Lee, who was the first woman
Ph.D. from Fuller. She was also the first dean of the first school of world mission linked to
the Presbyterian seminary in Seoul. Bobby Gupta, well-known in India, as the director of
the Hindustan Bible Institute. Father M artin Ritsi of the American Greek Orthodox Church
served in Albania as a missionary and founded in this country the Orthodox Center for
Mission in Florida. Bishop Antonio M arkos of the Egyptian Coptic Orthodox Church
started at Fuller, is now working in Nairobi training Africans from the African Initiated
churches. I have two more names and then I am going to leave it at that. Purnawan
Tenibemas Ph.D. from Fuller is now president of a seminary in Indonesia. Another
interesting example is Petros Malakyan, Ph.D. from Fuller, from the Evangelical Church
in Armenia. He is back in Armenia serving as teacher in the theological faculty at a
university. These are only a sample of names, this is one area where the School of
International Studies has made a profound and tremendous impact on the discipline of
missiology.
Whiteman: Fuller turned 40 this year, we are only 23. We don’t have a record like that.
I would say that our impact in the non-western world is probably the most rewarding part
of our work. As we see people come and get trained and get a missiological vision, a
missiological understanding about how the gospel relates to their own culture and then they
go back and implement that, that is very exciting. I don’t think that we can always judge the
impact of our program on the basis of people’s positions, but nevertheless that does say
something. So I’ll add a little bit of that. Leaderwell Pohnsgap who was president of Union
Biblical Seminary in India till a year ago, was our first graduate in 1987. Daniel Chen is
president of Holy Light Seminary in Taiwan, a Free Methodist school. W e have M ethodist
bishops in Kenya, Ghana and Brazil. The one who I like the most was Joao Carlos Lopes
from Brazil.
W hen he successfully defended his dissertation I said, “Joao Carlos, sit down I
want to talk to you about something. As soon as you go back to Brazil there is going to be
a mad dash to make you a bishop. I want you to fight that with everything you can for at
least 5-8 years. Take this missiological understanding that is in your head now, and let it
find its way to your heart and put this stuff to work so that it really is yours and not just
W hiteman’s notes.” Eight years later, almost to the day, he wrote me saying that he had
been elected bishop. He was glad that he had waited and not agreed to becoming bishop his
first year back in Brazil. Now he felt he was ready to become a bishop because he had
waited. I was just with him in Costa Rica about two months ago. He is now the leader of
the whole Methodist church, the only missiologically trained bishop. But he is helping the
church think missiologically about issues: How to encounter the poor? How to deal with
the culture? How to deal with things like Umbanda and Spiritism. It is just so exciting to
see our graduates thinking like that. Last year at the Lausanne Congress in Pattaya, we
spread word around that we would have a dinner, a free dinner for Asbury Seminary or ESJ
grads and friends. W e thought maybe half a dozen, maybe 25 at the most would show up.
Sixty people showed up. W e had a very strong contingent from Asbury - four of our ESJ
faculty and three of our students who were invited to participate in different study groups
for that conference. Our faculty have been very active in the International Association for
Mission Studies (IAMS), this is a global network for missiologists, similar to the American
Society of Missiology, but a global one. W e now have a wide range of denominations and
traditions represented, but this time from all over the world and our faculty have been
actively involved in that. The American Society of Missiology journal Missiology, has been
edited at Asbury in the ESJ school since 1989 and the present editor is Terry Muck.
W e have not focused on specific regions of the world. Asia, Africa, and Latin
America have been the primary regions from which our students have come, probably Asia
more than any other place. W e continue to struggle with our delivery system for
missiological education. W hat I mean by that is that everyone must come to W ilmore for
this kind of training. W e had debates among ourselves about whether this is the right thing
to do or not. Our philosophy is that missiological education is at its best when it is done in
community. The way I put it is that we are interested in the formation of missiologists, not
pouring missiological education into people’s heads. If you do it that way, you can not do
it by short-term courses, by correspondence or via the Internet. W e are kind of old-
fashioned about this, maybe we need to think differently. Personally, all of us are teaching
and speaking all over the world. This is not done in any kind of programmatic way, it is just
stuff we do on the side. Our international impact is by people coming, living with us and
then returning to their region.
Stamoolis: W hen I was traveling for W orld Evangelical Fellowship I kept running into
people who were graduates of Trinity Seminary. Some would have graduated when there
was a department of missions, but were impacted internationally by the school. So I am a
little reluctant to say that just the missiology graduates created the impact because the
impact of Trinity at that stage, in the 1970s and 80s, was not differentiated. It was amazing
to me how many I met from roughly the same generation under the deanship of Ken Kantzer.
If any of you have had the privilege of knowing Ken, he was a man of tremendous vision,
tremendous international vision for what he wanted to see for the school and just tremendous
vision in being able to implement it. He took a very, very small seminary serving a
denomination, and basically his vision was to make it a gift to the entire church. By God’s
grace that vision still lives on. Even though we are a Free Church related school, most of
our students are not Free Church, including those who come internationally. So again we
have a tremendous international impact in our doctoral programs, including in the field of
education. Walter and I were talking before about our doctorate in educational studies,
which is headed by Linda Cannell, who has a missionary heart. Some of the people who
teach in that program are also missionary types or have been missionaries on the field. As
you were saying about your faculty at Fuller and Asbury, Trinity faculty do go around the
world teaching.
The Ph.D. in intercultural studies, even the Ph.D. in theology, has a tremendous
international impact in terms of students we have coming from around the world. W e had
a long term relationship with a school in Korea, the Trinity Torch, which was primarily a
missionary training institution. Finally, we do have an M.A. in Intercultural studies which
is modular and can be done by people in the field and online.
W hat’s the best balance between community and information? One of my duties
over the college is to be dean of the non-traditional program and that debate comes from all
of our programs. How much of a stamp do you have to put on your students? Can it be
done in modular fashion? Cohort fashion? I think these are really tough decisions. I would
fall back on a quote from G.K. Chesterton to say, “Anything worth doing is worth doing
badly, rather than not doing it at all.” If that’s the only way you can get some people to have
education. In short, you have the ideal, you have the Oxbridge model, and you have
whatever you can do to attempt to get the job done.
W hat Focus for M ennonite Students?

Sawatsky: Thank you very much. You’ve been much briefer this time but it just keeps
staying interesting. I am going to reduce my last question to this: “W hat might Mennonite
students considering doctoral studies at your school be encouraged to focus on? How do you
pay for it and how do our students see that financially? But especially what to focus on,
where are you thinking ahead?
Hanciles: That’s a very difficult question to answer. Again on a personal level I think much
of missiological education has yet to come to terms - in terms of structure, prospectus,

bibliography, library resources - with the current shift and shape of global Christianity. I
think there is a lot of catching up to be done. In the School of Intercultural Studies we do
have faculty who are pushing boundaries all the time in the areas of missiological reflection
and missionary engagement with the wider culture. W e have a growing stream in ethno-
musicology for instance. W e have a newly developed program in the areas of AIDS and
children at risk which is also being cultivated with funding coming in. W ilbert Shenk did
pioneer studies with modernity and what is called post-modern culture and its implications
for the churches’ witness. I am doing things in the area of migration and the contemporary
implications for missions with the massive people movements going on in the world today,
especially the South to North migration movements. There are studies going on, of course,
in globalization and in development that are again on the cutting edge of missiological
thinking and reflection. I should not forget to mention a Korea studies program which is
always wrestling with particular questions and issues pertinent to Korea and the Asian
context. W e have a newly developed Hispanic Studies Center. It’s strange that Fuller,
given its location, one would expect to have many Hispanic students, but that’s not true and
its has become an issue of concern.
The other issue I want to comment on is that I am amazed when I hear the
percentages we are talking about. I am afraid that we are getting to the point where we are
beginning to pay lip service to diversity. Partly because we have been spoiled for so many
years, having taken diversity for granted. W e have had faculty with vast international
experience and students have followed them from all over the world. A lot of that faculty
is now close to retirement, that particular avenue is drying up. Institutionally, Fuller has to
seize the reigns and pursue diversity. Many seminaries might end up, where Fuller is.
Maintaining a diverse campus is increasingly going to be one of the greatest challenges of
education in the USA. There are financial issues that are really making it more and more
difficult. W ithout diversity, the campuses are going to become completely out of step with
the context and with global reality. So there is both a risk and a challenge.
Sawatsky: Darrell, I am still trying to understand how you did all this, with only $300,000.
Whiteman: W e survived until 1990, then a man named Ralph W aldo Beeson died and left
us $78 million, that helped. I guess the cutting edge for us at Asbury, would be this new
Ph.D. in Evangelization Studies. W e are hiring for it now and it will start in the fall. The
Foundation for Evangeliization of the United Methodist Church was particularly good at
raising money. Originally it set out to endow what they called the E Stanley Jones chairs
of evangelism, and offered these chairs to all of the 13 seminaries affiliated with the UM C.
Now, not everyone wanted them. So they placed these people where they could and
encountered two problems. Most of the faculty they placed are not really evangelism
professors, they are W esley Studies specialists with an interest in evangelism. So the issue,
they are discovering is: where are we going to get the next generation of evangelism
professors? W hat they have decided to do is that they came to us at Asbury and asked if we
would start a doctoral program in evangelization studies, which they would underwrite.
That includes full scholarships and library budget.
A second major area that we are developing at Asbury is an emphasis on holistic
mission. I am discovering more and more that unless people are trained in an understanding
and practice of holistic mission, they are not adequately trained. So we are developing
courses on community development, courses on business and mission. For the past 20 years
I taught a popular course entitled, the agent of change in mission - how do you go about
letting the Gospel create effective change, instead of having change be destructive.
At Asbury the cost is around $10,000 a year, $400 per credit hour, 63 hours for a
Ph.D., 48 hours for a D . Miss. W e actually have worked very hard to established
scholarships. W e have been able to provide 100% tuition scholarships for almost all of our
international students. Now a most exciting thing has happened with a group of Native
Americans who are seeking to be Native American and Christian at the same time. They are
being countered by another group naming themselves Chiefs, who say that when we follow
Jesus we must put our Native American history and our culture behind us. The Native
American group discovered our passion for contextualization studies, and that we were open
to their vision. When we told them this at a meeting about a year ago, they all began to cry,
saying they had been looking for such an opportunity for 20 years. So I intend to deal with
that by raising a 100% tuition scholarship for anyone with Native American background
who comes to study with us.
W e are out raising the money to do this and I have developed a program where I
am hooking up churches with students. So for $10,000 a year, a church commits to sponsor
for three or four years. My argument here is that this will transform their church, the student
will start to relate to that church on a regular basis, spending holidays and summers there.
During the three or four years that the student is in the United States studying, they can
develop an ongoing relationship so that when the student goes back to serve his church, the
church can go with him. The bonus is the fact that we get $10,000 annually to help with a
tuition scholarship, but the real driving force is not about money, but rather to get North
American churches to think about the international church.
So why should you send your Mennonite students? I think you have sent at least
three or four – Art McPhee was one of our students, Daryl Climenhaga, and Loren Horst.
Mennonite students would be very welcome. W e have a strong focus on community, it is
a dominant characteristic of our school. W e don’t call each other Dr. around there, we are
all scholars together, we are all fellow believers, we are in this together for the sake of the
Kingdom. This creates a very exciting environment.
Stamoolis: let me respond first on what to study. The advantage for Trinity International
University is just that, we are a university. W e are all part of it so we would be happy to
work with various specialties. My own is Eastern Orthodoxy, and I would be happy to work
with anyone wanting to pursue that. The Free Church is not a strongly doctrinaire
denomination. So while we have a confessional statement, it is pretty much the confessional
statement that you find in many interdenominational bodies. That confessional statement
allows us to have a very broad Evangelical stance without having to be specific on what is
included as desired perspective, compared to Fuller with its reputation for being a bit more
Reformed in orientation. I think that is one of the advantages for students coming from an
Anabaptist tradition.
Most of our international students had scholarships through the B. Langham
Ministries or some other doctoral program offerings.
Sawatsky: W e have also had and now have Mennonite students at Trinity. W ilbert Shenk
earlier noted some of the students studying at Fuller. For me this has been unusually rich in
terms of how you carefully prepared and said a great deal in brief fashion. I invite
comments from those listening or to ask questions.
Robert Lee: The context out of which I am speaking is Asia Graduate School of Theology
(ATST), and I am speaking of the Tokyo branch. One goal for ATST is to produce our own
graduate students, but actually all my best students went abroad. W e do have students,
going abroad, who do not make it. Right now I am trying to rescue two Trinity students.
W e have a D. M in. program and they do very well there, as well as in a Th. M. degree
program. The Ph.D. program is a thesis writing program. I don’t think that we do a good
job in the Th. M program because we lack the resources, the specializations. I would like
to see some of our students go abroad to study but write a dissertation in Japan. I have read
Fuller theses and know we could do a better job in Japan where they could use the major
university libraries and so on. In that sense, I asked for a Th.M. program offering, which
serves as prerequisite for doctoral studies upon return to Japan. This is more vital for
students from Japan than Korea, in terms of knowing English because of the way English
is taught in Japan. That is one thing we need help on. The other thing is that since we have
electronic systems now, once in awhile, we might need someone to help direct a thesis, and
it would be nice to work with schools where they have specializations such as yours.
Ron Yoder: Given that most graduate education is in Western Europe and North America,
and given the fact that the church is growing more rapidly in other locations, do your
schools have a vision beyond preparing individuals, to actually do institution building in
those locations, like creating graduate schools, or is your mission focused on the individual
mind rather than building institutions in these very rapidly growing contexts?
Whiteman: In June, I was in Nigeria and visited JETS, which is Jos ECW A [Evangelical
Church of W est Africa] Theological Seminary. Two of our graduates, both with Ph.D.’s are
teaching there. They said ‘we want to start a doctoral program in missiology’. I said that
you have two Ph.D.’s which is a start, and we will help you. The first question I then asked
was about library resources. You cannot offer a Ph.D. without an adequate library. They
said ‘we don’t know, would you mind taking a look’? I took about three to four hours, went
through all their periodicals and books and felt sick. My own personal library of 6-7,000
books was two or three times the size of that library for the whole seminary. W hen I
reported back to one of our more recent graduates, I actually began to weep. ‘You have just
obtained one of the best educations in intercultural studies in the world, and you have come
back to this place to teach? There are no resources!’ The first thing I did when I returned
to W ilmore was to ask a person if he would give $10,000 a year for five years to provide
library resources for this school. He said yes we will. That’s a start. They asked Asbury
to work with them in helping them obtain the library. That is really the best solution, to train
people in their own contexts, but the resources to do that are phenomenal.
Hanciles: Among the Fuller alumni listed earlier were a number of seminary presidents and
deans. T here is a sense in which they are empowered to initiate change in their own
contexts. I suppose, Asia has greater potential. If you are talking about Africa., it is really
dead. W ithout the right kinds of partnerships, the sort that Darrell has just mentioned, the
debt imbalance is going to continue. Yes there is a vision and a desire to work toward it.
I am actually the director of a small institute whose objective is to bring non-Western
scholars to complete a book project at Fuller. It is a fully funded six months to a year
program meant to address this need for resources. The fact is, that even when they do
complete their Ph.D. the research and findings are not available to the people that they wrote
about. So the program is geared to get them away from their overwhelming burdens of work
to write and complete a textbook that addresses the specific concerns of their context.
Wilbur Shenk: W e took the position at Fuller in the last 10 years, since we were besieged
with requests to establish a Fuller extension site in various countries, and came to the
decision that we are not going to get involved in establishing extensions. W e want to see
the institutional base in that country. W e have had a number of models, and one of the
models which we followed in the last five years is the following. A group of five schools
in India banded together to do a program in missiology. These are five seminaries that
could not do it single-handedly. But if they banded together they had enough that they can
make it credible. Fuller has contributed a faculty person to meet the requirements of the
program. In that way, we help build the capacity in that country. W e have been trying to
find others ways in the past 10 years, such as offering a faculty person every year, or being
part of the management committee which gives them some academic power with
government. Some governments require that they have a specific number of doctorates on
their advisory board. W e have tried to address the context. W hat Darrell is saying about
the lack of library resources is simply heart rending.
Sawatsky: I’m going to ask Xyyi Yao to say something about his school as the place for
training teachers across China in terms of the vision.
Xiyi Yao: Our seminary, China Graduate School of Theology was founded in 1975. The
founder was Jonathan Chao who passed away a few years ago. The original purpose was to
serve the church on the mainland of China, but they were unable to do it because it was a
closed door. Since 1980 the door has gradually opened, and we are responding to the needs
in China. W e started a Ph.D. program a few years ago. The goal is to train theological
educators in the mainland, who will go back to train pastors. W e are a small school unable
to train the grassroots because China is a very big country. The model is that students come
to us in Hong Kong. Our advantage is that we are so close to China that students do not have
to spend many years abroad. W e have discovered that lots of leaders in China cannot leave
their position. So they can spend a few months in Hong Kong, return to their work again,
and return again in another six months. That way they complete the program.
Yoon Sik Park: I teach at the Methodist Theological School in Ohio, one of the 13
Methodist seminaries. My context is really different. The schools represented by the three
panelists assume that mission is very integral to theological education. W here I teach I have
to work hard to prove the validity and legitimacy of mission in theological education.
W ithin the United Methodist Church, the General Conference is our legislative body. In
2000 it voted to require two courses for every U nited Methodist student who will be
ordained, one course in mission and one in evangelism. So since 2000 students are required
to take both courses before ordination. I see students who come with a desire to learn about
mission and evangelism, but also others who come very unwillingly, simply to meet a
requirement. So I often need to convert them first before I can proceed. I was wondering
if you could address the issue of the role of mission studies in relation to other theological
disciplines. But I guess we don’t have any time.
Stamoolis: I had prepared some remarks on that question. In your situation, because I have
taught adjunct and my best experience was to show not only theoretical mission studies, but
how the studies can be used in the congregations. I’ll give you one example. In the middle
of the term the student said, ‘I do not understand this. This is a course in missions but
everything you are teaching I am using Sunday by Sunday in the congregation’. I think that
is how you need to teach it, though that is not how I was always taught. Too often we try to
make it so academic that we don’t ground them so they can take it into the congregation.
This is true, especially for the regular M Div students.
Hanciles: I teach a course called mission and globalization, where I used the same approach.
Students are challenged to think about social issues through the lens of mission, the
theological implications. This involves reading milieus they encounter in their daily lives.
It is a course, I think that in terms of students engaging each other, generates the most heat
in terms of the ideas about the world and the churches’ role in it.
ECUM ENICAL M ISSIOLOGY IN ANABAPTIST PERSPECTIVE
Andrew W alls
It is a great joy to be here with so many friends, and I thank you for the invitation.
It is a great blessing to be among M ennonites, for Mennonites – though little known in my
own country of Scotland, where the Protestant Reformation took an early short cut – have
been a major influence in my life. And it is a special pleasure to be asked to take part in
honoring the person who has been the most considerable source of that influence from
Mennonite thought and practice. W ilbert Shenk has been a wonderful gift to the whole
church; to me he has become both a dear friend and a profoundly influential colleague.
Sir W alter Scott had a strange little friend called M arjorie Fleming, a precocious
child who died before reaching adulthood. “Pet Marjorie’s” solemn writings are a delight,
not least because of their mangled words and eccentric spellings. Here is one of her
theological utterances:. “An annibabtist is a thing I am not a member of.” The conference
organizers were aware that it is also a thing that I am not a member of, yet they invited me
to speak on ecumenical missiology in Anabaptist perspective. I joyfully respond. As one
who has often been stirred by Anabaptist witness, and has become hugely indebted to
Anabaptist missions, I rejoice in any opportunity to acknowledge that debt; and I owe it
above all to the scholar whom we honor tonight.
In the brief time allotted, it seems best to begin by addressing the present
ecumenical situation in mission, the context into which all Christians are called into God’s
mission; and then to proceed to some areas in which Anabaptist missiology may have a
contribution of ecumenical significance. I want to argue that some important features of the
new situation in the world (and my diagnosis of this will not be particularly novel or
profound), are areas where Anabaptist history and experience have things to say to all
Christians. Some of those things will not readily come from other sources.
Shaped by the End of Christendom

The present Christian situation is deeply marked by three critical developments of
th
the 20 century. The first of these is the end of Christendom. Christendom is only one of
many modes in which Christian faith has been expressed over the centuries; but in Europe
it was the characteristic form of Christian expression, and thus the determinative one for the
missionary movement as we know it. Christendom has shaped all W estern Christians. Even
Andrew Walls, leading mission historian and Africanist, is now Honorary Professor in the
University of Edinburgh, formerly director of the Centre for the Study of Christianity in the
Non-Western World in the University of Aberdeen and later at Edinburgh. H e is also
Visiting Professor at the Akrofi-Christaller Centre, Ghana. This paper was presented at a
recognition event in Elkhart for his former doctoral student, Wilbert R. Shenk.

192 Ecum enical Missiology in Anabaptist Perspective
those who reject the concept of Christendom and its state-related churches are shaped by
that rejection of a norm, by their conscious nonconformity.
At this point I hope I may be permitted to depart from traditional Anabaptist
discourse, since I believe it is time that we stopped blaming Constantine for
Constantinianism. The Roman Empire is not the place to seek the birth of Christendom. That
empire had too much built in pluralism, too many discordant interest groups to allow such
an event. T he cement that held Christendom in place so long had a cohesive strength
beyond anything that a Constantine, a Theodosius, a Justinian could derive from state power
or political engineering. To understand it we must go to the period of the conversion of the
northern and western peoples of Europe, whom the Romans called barbarians, and from
whom the majority of us are descended.
Let us consider an event fairly late in the story of the emergence of Christendom,
that took place in Iceland, on the very fringes of Europe, around 1000 AD. Iceland was a
land without king or central government. Imagine that we are attending a meeting of the
Althing, an assembly of the heads of families. The atmosphere is tense, with much weaponry
in evidence. The subject before the assembly is whether or not Christianity should be
adopted as the code of life for the island. There is no sign of agreement: there are voices in
favor of Christianity, voices in favor of maintaining the old ways. One of the Christian
leaders has therefore proposed going to arbitration, putting the decision into the hands of
one of the most respected elders of the community, and that elder is now sitting in the dark,
his head covered by a cloak. Hour after hour the assembly waits for his decision. Day
passes, and night into day again. At length the elder rises, puts aside his cloak and
announces his decision:
The first principle of our laws is that all men in this land shall be
Christians and believe in the one God – Father, Son and Holy Ghost –
and renounce the worship of idols. They shall not expose children at
birth, nor eat horseflesh.
The saga whose account has been followed here then says of the elder:
He then dealt with the observance of the Lord’s Day and fast days,
Christmas and Easter, and all the important festivals.1
There is disappointment and grumbling in the assembly among adherents of the old
ways, but they accept the decision. Iceland, on the outermost fringe of Europe, has done
what most of Western Europe has already done – it has entered Christendom.
The saga’s account tells us something about Christendom. Christianity is seen here
in terms of customary law. And in conversion stories all over Europe, the adoption of
Christian faith is presented in terms of customary law, spiritual resources for the community,
and the general well-being of society.
1
The source here is the saga of Njal. I have quoted from the translation of Magnus Magnusson and
Herman Palsson, Njal’s Saga Harmondsworth: Penguin 1960, 225f
Andrew W alls 193
In this case, the primacy of customary law is evident. The arbitrator explicitly
declares that Christianity is to be the first principle of the community’s laws. After the a
somewhat perfunctory reference to Christian belief (one God rather than several is the
central assertion) he turns to the immediate modification of law and custom which will occur
in two important areas - taboos and festivals. The adoption of Christianity introduces two
new taboos. One is about food; the other forbids the exposure of female children, a
traditional mechanism for controlling population growth in a harsh environment where extra
mouths imposed burdens. Adopting the Christian faith, that is, has its primary focus in
public and communal activities rather than private and personal ones. This does not mean
that the shift is superficial; these things lie at the heart of society; the change of code makes
Christian allegiance the “first principle” of law. Taboos are serious matters, involving
spiritual sanctions, the possibility of inviting divine displeasure; and implicit in a taboo on
population control was an act of faith that God, who had forbidden child exposure, would
provide for any extra mouths that came along as a result. Christendom is Christianity as
custom; and it arose from primal societies adopting Christianity as the basis of customary
law. Such law is binding on everyone; many of us will have met, in societies where it
operates today, the pregnant phrase “It is our custom… ”. You will have noticed that it never
occurred to anyone at the assembly in Iceland to adopt the procedure that we would expect
to follow today, namely that the Christians would follow Christian customs, and that the
others would adhere to the old ways. That was a recipe for civil war. A single people must
live by a single code.
Christendom began in the experience of Christianity as custom. W ith the spread
of the faith among the peoples of Europe and the development of their political systems, it
grew quite naturally into the experience of Christianity as territory – the area subject to
Christian custom and the law of Christ. At its fullest extent Christendom meant contiguous
Christian territory from the Atlantic to the Carpathians, or for those able to think on a wider
scale of language and culture, to the Urals. Much occurred over the centuries to modify the
concept; more and more exceptions were made to its basic premise; but the premise
remained, through all the challenges of the Protestant Reformation, the W ars of Religion,
the Enlightenment,.and the emergence of liberal society.
It is neither possible nor necessary to indicate here how the Christendom premise
and experience has shaped the organization, polity, practice and preaching of the W estern
churches, (and often, adventitiously, of non-W estern churches too). It has also shaped the
very way that western Christians have done their theology; their Christian experience having
been shaped by law and custom, they have turned naturally to legal models. The effect of
Christendom on Christian experience has been less noticed. Christendom forces on
experience the gap between profession and realization, between the established norms of a
society and its actual procedures. It builds in failure as the main fruit of experience, guilt
and judgment as its central problem issues.. The radical movements within W estern
Christendom - monastic, Anabaptist, Puritan, Pietist, Evangelical - all stem from this
institutionalized sense of failure within Christendom.. In different ways they make a
distinction between “real” and nominal, or formal, or official Christianity; between what
Christendom ought to be, and what it is.
The relationship between the Christendom experience and the emergence of the
W estern missionary movement is more complex. For many in the years when Europe was
breaking out of its long isolation and coming into contact with a whole new world, the way
to propagate an essentially territorial faith was to expand Christian territory, to increase the
area subject to the law of Christ. The already established institution of crusade fitted
perfectly into this system of thought, and was readily extended to the lands that newly came
into European cognizance in the late 15 th and early 16 th centuries. The Spanish conquest of
the Americas is the last of the Crusades, and it is no accident that it begins so soon after the
crusading success in ending M uslim rule in Spain. Some medieval pioneers foreshadowed
a different way of spreading the Christian faith; but the true emergence of the W estern
missionary movement took place as it became clear that there was little prospect of
successful crusades in Asia and Africa. The missionary mode of spreading the Gospel
contrasts sharply with the crusading mode. Instead of extending by force the area to be
nominally subject to the law of Christ, it sought to commend and persuade without the
power to compel. Typically it also involved learning a language, finding a niche in another
society, living – to some extent at any rate – on that society’s terms. These were activities
that took W estern Christians beyond the assumptions and experiences of Christendom.
The missionary movement, often in spite of its own efforts, pointed towards an
expression of Christianity different from that of Christendom. And the colonialism that
developed out of European expansion began, I have argued elsewhere, the secularization of
Europe and the dissolution of Christendom. The process of dissolution was slow, but in the
later 20 th century it accelerated rapidly, revealing a dechristianized Europe.
Until the 20 th century the Christendom experience meant that Christianity was the
defining characteristic of European civilization, even for those who rejected it. The year
2005 saw a profoundly significant event. The European Union, with infinite travail,
produced a draft constitution that was meant to convey the essence of European existence.
The document deliberately excluded any reference to Christianity, even as a historical
influence. Christendom is dead; only its ghosts are now in evidence. Faith in democracy,
and in elections as a cure for human misery, may be a secularized survival of the
Christendom ideal. It is a ghost of especially American provenance. The United States,
always a semi-detached part of Christendom, applied to getting the right form of government
the energy that Europe put into getting the right form of church..
The first statement, therefore, about the present ecumenical situation must concern
the demise of the way of experiencing and expressing Christianity that had prevailed among
W estern Christians since the conversion of the W est. The new situation needs a new way
Andrew W alls 195
of being Christian, that can confidently flourish in a plural setting - something Christendom
by its nature excluded.
A Cultural and Demographic Transformation of the Church

The second great transformative 20 th-century development is the change in the
cultural and demographic composition of the church.. In this respect Christianity changed
more in the 20 th century than in any previous century, except the first. W e are all aware that
the majority of Christians are now Africans, Asians, Latin Americans, or people from the
Pacific region. After the long centuries of Christendom, we have hardly yet begun to work
out the implications of Africans and Asians being the representative Christians of the 21 st-
century. W e must expect Christianity to become, increasingly and inexorably, a non-
W estern religion, and for this to be displayed in its theology, in its worship, in its
preoccupations, in the issues that it addresses. Leadership in the church will increasingly
reflect the demographic dominance of Africa and Asia within the Christian community. This
must include theological and intellectual leadership; W estern intellectual leadership of a
predominantly non-W estern church is an incongruity. W e must decrease and they must
increase. W estern Christians will need to become accustomed to being assigned roles rather
than assuming them. Them, and learn to be active, helpful assistants in the work of the
kingdom where once they were overseers. Meanwhile, it seems likely that the financial
resources of the church will disproportionately concentrated in a declining sector of its
membership. The money question will be one of the acid tests for 21 st century Christianity
Reverse M igration
The third transformative development in the 20 th century was the end of one great
period of migration and the inauguration of another in the opposite direction. For about four
and one half centuries, from the middle of the 15 th to the 20 th century, world history was
determined by European migrations. Millions of people left Europe for lands beyond
Europe. They settled huge territories, usually pushing the indigenous populations to the
margins. They created huge nation states by their migrations, not least those of the
Americas. They moved populations around the globe, taking people from India and China
to Fiji or Guyana. They broke off a huge piece of Africa and put it down in the Americas.
They altered the world patterns of trade. They set up huge maritime empires, parceling out
Africa and the Pacific between the W estern powers. They afterwards took control of the
Middle East, invented Iraq, and put together a time bomb in Palestine. And then in the years
following W orld W ar II, with only two superpowers left, the migration wound down, the
empires were dismantled, and Vasco da Gama sailed home.
The religious effects of the great migrations had been mixed. W e have already
mentioned the fastest recession from Christian faith in Christian history, centered among the
peoples of Europe or of European descent. W e have also noticed the vast accession to the
faith elsewhere, in Latin America and tropical Africa and some parts of Asia. But there
were other religious products of European migration. Modern Hinduism is a product of the
British Raj. Pakistan and the idea of separate Muslim states equally so. Colonial rule did
more for Islam in Africa and Indonesia than did all the Jihads. The great European migration
caused most Islamic governments to be reshaped or replaced. At the beginning of the 19 th
century the greatest Islamic ruler was the Sultan of Turkey; at the end of that century it was
Queen Victoria. By the early 20 th century almost the only independent Islamic ruler was the
Emir of Afghanistan. In this way the great European migration caused Islam to grow both
in numbers and in resentment.
Bu in the mid-20 th century the migration went into reverse. Huge numbers now
began to come to the W est from beyond the W est and make their homes there. All
indications are that this reversed migration will continue and increase. It may well determine
the course of world history as much as the European migration did, especially in view of the
likely emergence of China and India as superpowers. W estern nations may not want
migrants, but their economies cannot survive without them.
This migration is transforming the church in the W est, and the ecumenical Christian
situation. In Europe the diaspora communities from Africa and Asia, and in Spain from
Latin America, have introduced a whole new dimension to church life. In the United States,
the principal target of the migration, there are now Christians from every country under
heaven. They who have the potential to transform American church life. The public
legislation with the greatest capacity to impact religion in America does not relate to the
issues that go to the Supreme Court. It is the immigration act of 1964.
New M issiological Agenda - Community, Principalities, Suffering, Radical Conversion

The three transformative 20 th-century developments that we have noted have
between them brought about a post-W estern Christianity and a post-Christian W est. For
Christians, this requires ways of thinking and acting that were not part of traditional
missiology, nor specially characteristic of Christendom. O ne of these requirements is a
consciousness of Christian community that can cross ethnic and cultural boundaries at local
level, while at the same time maintaining a sense of mutual belonging among Christian
peoples across the world. The Christendom concept was a powerful one, catching the
imagination; but the old Christendom is dead. There is a danger, however, that a new
version that assumes an American original for Christianity, may replace it. The new situation
requires Western Christians to find a joyful place in a predominantly non-W estern church.
The second need is for a new sense of the biblical theme of principalities and
powers. There are two senses in which these have been interpreted - malign spiritual forces
or political forces, Caiaphas/Pilate figures. Either way, Paul tells us that they are world
rulers despoiled by the blood of Christ’s cross and the triumph of his resurrection. Africa,
Asia, and Latin America bring both these aspects of the principalities and powers and their
Andrew W alls 197
spiritual manifestations on to the theological agenda. W estern theology has since the
Enlightenment been reluctant to grapple too closely with Paul’s meaning. The problem with
W estern theology is that it is not big enough for the world outside the W est; it belongs to
a small-scale, pared down, universe. Most Africans, and indeed most human beings, live
in a mental universe that is larger and more populated. In addition, an active missiology
needs to be alert to the danger of being co-opted by Pilate and Caiaphas.
A third need, arising from the fact that Pilate and Caiaphas, both fairly run of the
mill politicians, are representative world rulers, is an awakened recognition of the possibility
of suffering as a test of Christian authenticity. A few minutes’ thought may suggest which
parts of the world has God been preparing through suffering for leadership of the church?
The fourth need is the recovery of the radical nature of conversion. Christendom
inevitably baptized unrepentant elements of society. The new mode of Christian living must
seek to turn all aspects of the Christian community to Christ, opening it up to him.
Conversion is necessarily a turning to Christ of what is already there, not of substituting
something that is not. Conversion thus retains identity, indeed it goes to the root of identity.
That leaves abundant room within the Christian community for difference. In the new post-
W estern Christianity, globally polycentric yet locally multicultural, different segments of
social reality will be living side-by-side within the same society. They must recognize their
mutual belonging. The ecumenical tests of the 21 st-century will have little to do with
denominations. They concern whether African and Indian and Chinese and Korean and
Hispanic and W estern and Eastern European and every sort of American Christianity can
share in the body of Christ, realizing that body, enabling it to function until we all come
together to the full stature of Christ.
Traditional missiology has few resources for these things because it has hitherto
had little relevant experience. Anabaptists through their special history and peculiar
relationship to Christendom, have a good deal of relevant experience. Anabaptist
missiology can draw from a rich understanding of community, consciousness of worldwide
dispersion, recognition of the principalities and powers and of the relation of suffering to
discipleship; radical views of conversion and converted life.
I cannot conclude without some of reference to the way these and other virtues of
Anabaptist missiology have been demonstrated in the one we honor tonight, though it must
be for others to do so in detail. W hen I first met W ilbert Shenk, he was a mission
administrator, wrestling with the realization that the new situation must radically alter
mission agencies and how they operate. He has delved deeply into the history of the church,
its whole history, not just the Anabaptist sector of it. He sympathetically entered the
establishment Anglican mind of that great missionary administrator of the 19 th century,
Henry Venn, and patiently gathered Venn’s writings for the benefit of later generations. He
has been an architect of ground-breaking projects in the history and the theology of mission.
He has directed important studies of the American dimension of the missionary movement,
acting as kindly Socratic midwife for the work of others. Like a true Anabaptist he has
exercised discrimination about fashionable trends. His early critiques of the church growth
movement were trenchant but constructive. His warnings about instrumental views of
culture, about treating culture as an evangelistic tool, were much needed. Anabaptists are
aware of culture issues, and no one has done more than W ilbert Shenk to bring gospel and
culture, not least gospel and W estern culture, together. His early practical work in the field
of African independent churches and his recognition of their place within the church catholic
was significant far beyond M ennonite circles.. In all these things and many more, he has
been the supreme networker, the encourager, getting the best out of other people, keeping
the team together, always leading them to the realization of the larger aim. I record my
immeasurable debt to him and to Juanita too, for the privilege of friendship and
colleagueship over these many years. These are people of the Kingdom of God. This is a
wise master builder who has brought the Anabaptist perspective to ecumenical missiology.
W ilbert - ‘Almost thou persuadest me to be - a Mennonite!’
BOOK REVIEW S
Anabaptists Meeting Muslims: A Calling for Presence in the Way of Christ, James Krabill,
David Shenk, and Linford Stutzman, eds. W aterloo, ON; Scottdale PA: Herald
Press, 2005, 566 pages.
In October 2003, Mennonites convened at Eastern Mennonite Seminary for a
consultation on Islam: "An Anabaptist Consultation on Islam: The Church Meets the Islamic
Community." The presentations at the consultation have been published in a book (566
pages!), which makes it possible for those who did not attend the meeting in Harrisonburg,
to get informed about different views in the Mennonite world with regard to Islam.
The book is divided into four sections. The first section ("The Big Picture") deals
with general themes concerning Muslim-Christian relations. The second section ("Learnings
and Vision") is focused on the experiences of Mennonites in their contacts with Muslims in
different parts of the world. The third section (“Issues and Themes”) deals with issues like
peace and reconciliation, dialogue and witness, etc. The fourth and last section
(“Observations, W itness and Counsel") explores the questions Muslims ask Christians.
"This book is not," as noted in the foreword, “an occasion for self-congratulations; rather,
it is a calling to repentant confession of our need for grace, forgiveness, humility and
wisdom in the journey with Muslims” (p.23ff.).
The consultation and the publishing of this book are important events: Mennonites
of different persuasions attempting to find an answer to the question of what their attitude
should be to the Islamic religion and to Islamic neighbors, in a time when many negative
statements are made about Muslims and their religion.
The book consists of about sixty presentations. Not all participants at the
consultation were Mennonites. W ell-known scholars like Dudley W oodberry and Lamin
Sanneh lectured at the Harrisonburg-meeting. Important is the contribution made to the
consultation by leaders from churches in Asia and Africa. In the dialogue of the future
churches in Asia and Africa, these will play a major role in the attempt to convince Muslims
that Christianity is not a product of the W estern world.
The book does not pay attention to the different currents of reflection and opinion
in the house of Islam. "This is a book about Anabaptist vocation” (44). However, the
consultation would not have been convened without the terrible actions of radical Muslims
in September 2001. Do we tend to begin to move only after calamities?
Theological education and reflection should pay more attention than in the past to
Islam and the relation between Islam and Christianity. W aiting for a disaster is not the way
to go.
One does not need to go to Djibouti or Indonesia to meet Muslims. Muslims have
become our neighbors. There are about 8 million Muslims in the USA. In section two of the
book we read about how Canadian M ennonites interact with their Islamic neighbors. But this
section does not tell us how Mennonite congregations in the USA relate to their Islamic
neighbors.
200 Book Reviews
W hen people meet, they influence each other positively or negatively. It is

impressive to see in how many countries Mennonites are living and working among
Muslims. It is however disappointing that we don't hear very much about the influence these
encounters have on Mennonite workers. Have critical remarks and questions of Muslims
changed the views about Islam? Has the meeting with Muslims contributed to a new
understanding of the biblical message? W hat has looking through the eyes of Muslims
taught us about the way Christianity is regarded by M uslims, and how does that affect us?
A true meeting leads to changes.
Key words in the presentations are: presence, incarnational presence, dialogue,
empathy, and respect. About a hundred years ago the key words were different. The
prevalent opinion was that Islam would not survive the collision with modern civilization.
Islam was seen as a dying religion and Christianity as a victorious religion. History has gone
in another direction than was prophesied at the beginning of the 20th century. Now Islam
is the fastest growing world religion. And we now use other words when we reflect on the
best way to interact with M uslims.
Not all participants at the consultation have the same ideas about this interaction.
One participant emphasizes the importance of a confrontational approach (of "tough love”).
That is not a new approach. It has been the predominant approach for many centuries. And
it is the approach of many people in our day, owing to the violent acts of Muslim extremists.
This approach has soured relations. It is a misunderstanding to think that dialogue is "soft
love," preventing critical remarks, making it impossible to ask weighty questions. The
precondition for good dialogue is mutual trust. W hen there is mutual trust, critical remarks
can be made, and hard questions can be asked. Another word used a lot during the
consultation is incarnational presence. That incarnational presence means more than wearing
the clothes and eating the food of the M uslim neighbor, is made very clear in the story told
by Donna Entz about the work she and her husband are doing in Burkina Faso.
Incarnational presence includes, according to one participant, confession of sins:
personal sins, the sins of the Church, and the sins of our nation (p. 43). According to the
same participant, the division and dissension in the Church of Christ is not a sin but “an
enrichment and a strength" (449). “Zu schön, um wahr zu sein” (To good to be true), as the
German proverb says.
This review does not do justice to the rich diversity of this publication. Much more
could and should be said about several presentations. This book will, hopefully, make an
important contribution to the ongoing discussion about the Muslim-Christian encounter.
Thanks to the editors and the participants for the work they have done.
Reviewed by Roelf Kuitse, Amsterdam NL, retired Professor of Mission & Director of
Mission Training Center, AMBS.
Book Reviews 201
Christian Presence and Witness Among Muslims, Peter F. Penner. ed. Schwarzenfeld,
Germany: Neufeld Verlag, 2005. 199 pp.
This collection of essays grows out of a conference held at the International Baptist
Theological Seminary in Prague, Czech Republic, in February, 2004. It also grows out of
the collective experiences among participants representing Baptist and other Christian
evangelical fellowships across 31 countries largely throughout central and eastern Europe,
across North Africa and the Mediterranean, into the Middle East and the central Asian
republics of the former Soviet Union.
Memories of empires long fallen, and dismay over others still rising, temper the
current experiences where evangelical Christians encounter M uslim believers and their
cultures and heritage. Some of these Christians live as minority communities within a larger
framework of majority Islamic society. Other Christians participating in the conference
come from situations once largely defined by a Christian heritage, and with a growing
minority population of Muslims (often immigrants). In either case, both sets of believers
also wrestle with the reality of secular ideologies and political constraints that place limits
on the free exploration and expression of public dimensions of faith, whether Christian,
Islamic or another heritage alike.
Two speakers highlighted the conference presentations: the well-known venerable
sage Bishop Kenneth Cragg, and the widely traveled and published Dr. David Shenk (not
kin to this reviewer). Two essays by Shenk and two by another contributor identified only
by name (Martin Accad) constitute the most substantial pieces presented in this volume.
Several other essays take the reader into details of particular cultural encounters with Islamic
heritage, such as the former Soviet Asian republics, Albania’s Bektashi Muslims of Sufi
heritage, and Bosnia’s Slavic Muslim society.
David Shenk’s pieces extend his energetic encounters with Muslim believers in
numerous settings around the world, reporting on remarkable exchanges and piercing
insights that come from intense familiarity with Muslim history and heritage, respectful
engagement with key Muslim leaders on their own turf, and a distinct empathy for many
grievances that Muslims exhibit toward what they perceive as the decadence and destructive
global powers of W estern imperial culture. Varying understandings of Jesus and salvation,
of suffering and mission and hope all constitute grist for the mill of significant dialogue
between serious believers, as he models and reports with cheerful confidence. From his
earliest experiences with M uslims in Somalia, he also highlights 20 axioms for the respectful
and responsible encounter across theological differences even with serious power inequities
that Christians in a minority position can follow in faithful biblical witness, rooted in
understandings from I Peter 2 and 3.
Martin Accad, who trained in Great Britain with assistance from ministries related
to John Stott, returns to his M iddle Eastern roots with a lengthy study of early Islamic
scholars and their use of the Scriptures of Jews and Christians before the somewhat later
202 Book Reviews
formulation of charges that those Scriptures had been corrupted. In the later polemics
between followers of M uhammad and the earlier “peoples of the Books,” the authority of
the previous scriptures was rejected by Muslims, after the polemics of mutual rejection had
hardened into entrenched anathemas, especially from the eleventh century and following.
Accad’s gift, through careful investigation and scrutiny of earlier centuries in
Islamic scholarship, is to relieve participants in contemporary dialogues from the burdens
that those later hardened polemics have bequeathed us. He demonstrates, in considerable
detail, that the first references to the suspicion that prior monotheist texts might have been
misused, originated primarily in hermeneutical rather than dogmatic concerns.
Four Qur’anic references to such corruption (Tahrif, hurrifat, harrafa) are shown
to denote misinterpretation after prior proper understanding on the part of the “peoples of
the Books.” In twenty-five treatises from the first six centuries of Islamic scholarship, he
traces the hardening of the charge into accusations that the texts themselves have been
corrupted, rather than merely disputing the authenticity of particular interpretations.
But for several centuries, Islamic scholars actually appealed to the legitimacy and
authority of the texts as received, even using them to guard against unchecked speculation.
Perhaps the best example he presents is that of Ibn Qutayba, a ninth-century Muslim writer
who uses a verse from the Sermon on the Mount to confirm the reliability of a later hadith
(saying), and then warns: “we do not conclude about His (God’s) attributes anything other
than what God’s prophet concluded. And we do not reject what is right about Him (simply)
because it does not conform to our understandings and does not make sense in our opinion.
But we believe in it without qualification or limitation, not applying that which has not been
revealed to that which has been revealed. And we hope that this thinking and agreement will
safeguard us and eliminate all speculation in the near future, God willing.” (56-57).
This 50-page essay alone would be sufficient reason for any earnest Christian
engaging in witness among Muslims to acquire a copy of this small volume; the modesty of
hermeneutic restraint would go a long way to reduce the tension of inherited polemics
among those who seek genuine encounters and respectful dialogue today.
Two minor defects mar the collection: the very author who reviews charges of
textual corruption is left dangling with an unfinished sentence/paragraph at the close of his
second essay (120). More importantly, one is also left to wonder why, if Bishop Cragg was
a main speaker and engaged the participants in a lively fashion (10), is there nothing of his
contribution found worth publishing in this collection?
The Prague participants, finally, did issue a declaration which rightly calls all
followers of Jesus the M essiah to be “prayerfully present among Muslims in ways that
commend Christ”; to be “a letter written by Christ that all can read as we extend love and
forgiveness when confronted by hate, mercy when confronted by suffering and justice when
confronted by injustice.” W here these practices are fully implemented, we will surely have
occasion to “invite our M uslim friends into inclusive communities of love and peace,”
Book Reviews 203
celebrating together “what God has done in Jesus, promoting the worship of God in Spirit
and in Truth.” Even if it takes centuries to undo the harm and barriers thrown up on each
side, this truth may indeed prevail over our own mistakes (past and present) and the
objections that currently block the path.
Reviewed by Gerald Shenk, Professor of Church & Society, Eastern Mennonite Seminary,
Harrisonburg, VA.
Changing Tides: Latin America & World Mission Today. By Samuel Escobar. Maryknoll,
NY: Orbis Books, 2002. 206 pages. $23.00.
How are mission perspectives being changed as the church shifts south in size and
dynamism? Peruvian Baptist missiologist, Samuel Escobar, addresses this issue by looking
at Christian mission from a Latin American evangelical perspective. The book began as
lectures around the theme of mission in Latin America. The original Spanish edition,
Tiempo de misión (SEMILLA, 1999), was an invitation to Latin American evangelicals to
reflect theologically on their mission experiences. The English edition expands on that
“insider” document, inviting the broader church to rethink its view of mission and Latin
America’s role in it.
The book is divided into four major sections. The first reviews the changing face
of Christian mission and of reflection on mission in the world today. This review is crucial
because it sets a framework for the rest of the book. Escobar evaluates various “types” of
missiologies in evangelical circles and their role in the task of developing a Latin American
missiology.
The second section looks at how Catholics and Protestants have done mission in
Latin America. Escobar begins by addressing the contradiction that “the percentage of
missionaries who go to Latin America is disproportionate in comparison to the areas in the
world most in need” (p. 23). Latin America is the most Catholic continent in the world, but
after 500 years of Catholicism, it does not produce enough priests to meet its basic pastoral
needs. Protestants also continue sending missionaries there even though the existing
churches should be able to continue the work themselves. Escobar analyzes this
contradiction by looking at the history of how both Catholics and Protestants have done
mission work in Latin America and the impact these efforts have had there. The result is an
enigmatic situation in which Latin America continues to receive missionaries, even as it
begins to send missionaries around the world. Escobar argues that Latin American
evangelicals need to look at this history, and particularly at the last four decades of mission
work on the continent, so that they can draw the lessons they need to become a strong
missionary force in the twenty-first century.
The third section looks at popular Protestantism (classical Pentecostalism), the
most dynamic form of Protestantism in Latin America. He describes how Pentecostalism
has become a grassroots religious movement on the continent. Sociologists have tried to
204 Book Reviews
define it merely within the environment of social transition. But it defies these efforts.
Interestingly, Escobar looks to a Catholic analysis to draw missiological lessons. He also
invites evangelicals to recognize that popular Protestantism looks different than classical
Protestantism because its roots do not lie so much in the sixteenth century Reformation as
in Pietism, Moravian missions and eighteenth-century M ethodism. These influences, tied
to a strong sense of the work of the Holy Spirit in mission, serves as the framework for a
church that has mobilized its members for mission in the midst of poverty. This growth
needs to be evaluated self-critically so that Latin Americans can have a growing influence
in the world. Escobar demonstrates what that self-criticism should look like by evaluating
the growth of popular Protestantism from an evangelical and Pentecostal perspective.
The last section looks at mission efforts coming out of Latin America, focusing on
the growing missionary dynamism developing on the continent. The last chapter reflects on
how the lessons learned in the book might impact the training of Latin American
transcultural missionaries.
Samuel Escobar invites his readers to address issues of mission history, mission
theology, apostolic poverty and the future of Christian mission through Latin American eyes.
Both Catholic and Protestant models have created dependency and discouraged the
formation of a strong missional church in Latin America. And as he points out, the part of
the church focused most dynamically on mission is the segment that has emerged and grown
with little outside support. Latin America is now a significant missionary force, but it needs
to learn from its own history so that it can provide a New Testament model for the twenty-
first century. It is a part of that dynamic southern church that offers the global church new
models of mission for the future.
Changing Tides evolved from a call to Latin American evangelicals to a
missiological reflection on and from Latin America for the rest of the world. Because of the
changing tides in the worldwide church this book is crucial in both its versions. The church
in Latin America can provide a model for mission from the bottom up that can be much
closer to a New Testament model. Latin America has many gifts to offer the church around
the world. Samuel Escobar, together with his fine book, is one of them.
Reviewed by Juan Martínez, Ph.D., Assistant Dean, Hispanic Church Studies; Associate
Professor of Hispanic Studies and Pastoral Leadership, Fuller Theological Seminary
The Road to Delhi: Bishop Pickett Remembered 1890-1981 by Arthur G. McPhee.

Bangalore, India; SAIACS Press, 2005, 394 pp.
Forty years ago while researching a dissertation on the Mennonite Church in India
(1972) I ran across J. Waskom Pickett for the first time. Two of his books, Christian Mass
Movements in India (1933) and Christian Missions in Mid-India (1938) with D. A.
McGavran and G. H. Singh were important sources for understanding the missionary
outlook of the 1930s and l940s.
Book Reviews 205
Arthur McPhee, Associate Professor of Missions and Intercultural Studies at the

Associated Mennonite Biblical Seminary, now refreshes these memories with this masterful
biography of a major church leader in India and the United States from the 1920s to the
1960s.
W askom Pickett grew up in W ilmore, Kentucky, home of Asbury College. His
evangelist and hymn writer father was identified with the Holiness wing of the Methodist
church. Pickett grew up in this environment. He was educated at Asbury earning a masters
degree by the time he was 18. One of the boarders at the Pickett house during these years
was E. Stanley Jones. Jones and Pickett became the major voices of Methodism in India for
decades and were the best of friends.
Pickett went to India in 1910 after volunteering with the Methodist Board of
Foreign Missions. As an Asbury student and later as teacher at Taylor University in Upland,
Indiana, he was immersed in the spirit of American revivalistic Christianity. He was active
in the student volunteer movement so integral to overseas missions from the 1880s to the
1930s.
McPhee traces Pickett’s work in India in great detail: as pastor of a M ethodist
congregation in Lucknow; village missionary in what was later called Bihar State; editor of
the Indian Witness and district superintendent; bishop, first in Bombay, and then in Delhi
from 1936 to 1956; president of the N ational Christian Council of India; organizer of the
United Council for Relief and W elfare (UCRW ), a response to the horrendous months of
suffering during the independence struggle which birthed Pakistan and India; and organizer
in 1953 of the United Mission to Nepal. After retiring to the United States from India in
1956, Pickett taught missions at Asbury and at the Boston University School of Theology.
In the U.S. he also served as a spokesperson for India causes well into the 1970s.
During Pickett’s first term he fell in love with Ruth Robinson, daughter of longtime
missionary and then bishop, J. W . Robinson. Before the marriage Pickett had a bout of
tuberculosis forcing him to return home for treatment. The long boat trip across the Pacific
during W orld W ar I seemed to be the best treatment possible. Ruth graduated from
Northwestern University. After the wedding it was back to India where she was intimately
involved in nearly every moment of W askom’s career. They raised a family of three
daughters and one son who provided M cPhee with rich stories and excellent photographs
for this volume.
Great leaders whether in political life or church life respond to the great crises of
the moment. Art McPhee describes Pickett’s involvements in the mass influx of new
members into Indian churches in the 1920s and 30s. He observes Pickett’s involvement in
the growing inter-church movements from regional to national to world-wide convocations
such as the International M issionary Council meeting at Tambaran (Madras) in 1938. Much
of the drama of the volume is in the final chapters which emphasize Pickett’s interaction
with such Indian leaders as Gandhi (he urged Gandhi to leave Delhi a day before his
206 Book Reviews
assassination based on information from an Indian policeman), Ambedkar, Nehru,

Mountbattan, and the major post-Independence American diplomats.
Pickett’s reputation, however, was not as church spokesperson in Indian public life.
Rather his reputation was earned as an evangelist among the low and outcastes and tribal
peoples. Based on this experience, the National Christian Council of India, encouraged by
John R. Mott and financed by the Institute for Social and Religious Research, asked him to
organize a major research program into the growth of the church in India. Authorized in
1929, Pickett as in many of his endeavors had to organize a budget and do considerable
fund-raising. This was especially precarious just at the beginning of the Great Depression.
McPhee follows Pickett through all phases of this massive social survey based on
interviewing nearly 4000 families in several different churches in distinct regions of India.
Pickett, contrary to the other mass movement enthusiasts, was not sure about the
terminology or its potential. Pickett confirmed that mass movements were real but that there
were no particular secrets to their success. “God uses social forces to bring… [people] under
the influence of the gospel.” But the long term impact of dramatic church growth was not
conversions per se, rather the key was “immediate and ongoing post-baptismal training.”
Mass movements had much interest for the missionary community. There were also
those who emphasized the imperative of Christian nurture. Some Indian politicians including
a number of British district commissioners, but especially Mahatma Gandhi were very
critical of the cultivation of mass conversions. Pickett debated Gandhi on religious freedom
while retaining his friendship. The real tensions emerged in the triangulation between
Gandhi, Ambedkar the leader of the untouchables, and those who nurtured the large
numbers of new Christians - Anglican Bishop V. S. Azariah, Pickett, and other
representatives of the National Christian Council. This struggle created some tensions and
unfortunate incidents between Pickett, McGavran, E. Stanley Jones and others. Pickett’s
sensitivities were demonstrated most poignantly on two occasions in 1938 when Pickett
refused Ambedkar’s request for baptism in secret. Pickett knew of Ambedkar’s difficulties
with the Orthodox creed and surely understood the risks of politicizing the Christian
movement.
I have read dozens of biographies. This one sparkles. McPhee not only gets inside
Pickett, he also keeps the man in context. This is no mean task covering fifty significant
years of the twentieth century. The descriptions of W ilmore, Bombay, Lucknow, Bihar
villages and New Delhi have wonderful detail. McPhee describes Methodist (typical for
early churches in India) structures with great understanding and how Pickett worked
creatively with them. McPhee properly emphasizes Pickett’s unique contribution to the
Christian cause. Like every good biographer, M cPhee traveled many of the roads and towns
where Pickett lived in both the U.S. and India.
Even though this is a substantial biography, the reader will wish for more. How did
Pickett’s holiness background play out in Indian missionary and church life? W as holiness
Book Reviews 207
piety a continuing part of his personal and church practice? W here did Pickett get spiritual
and intellectual inspiration after leaving college? W hat and who did he read? How did he
keep up his awareness of Indian political developments? W hat newspapers and magazines
did he read? There were several occasions of conflict McPhee reports. But beyond that there
do not appear to be any shadow sides to Pickett’s life. W ere there not any? I wish the major
quotations would have been documented.
This fine biography deserves a wide reading by all people interested in the
development of the world-wide Christian movement.
Reviewed by John A. Lapp, Akron, PA, Exec. Sec. Emeritus of Mennonite Central
Committee
From East to West: Rethinking Christian Mission by D. Preman Niles. St. Louis, Missouri:
Chalice Press, 2004. 200 pages.
As an Asian theologian, a biblical scholar, and an ecumenical worker with many
years of experience as a missionary executive, D. Preman Niles is well qualified to write this
book which combines good ideas on mission and a perceptive reading of the signs of the
times with a genuine concern for practical action. Already in the Introduction he claims that
it was as General Secretary of the Council for World Mission (CW M) that he gained and
tested in practical ways his skills and theological insights. In this position he had to be “at
home in several local contexts with a bewildering cultural variety stretching from the
Caribbean to the Pacific,” and he had to learn “to respect and interact with the different ways
in which the Triune God is worshipped and praised” (13). W ith this background he has been
able to produce a work that could be regarded as a synthesis of his rich theological
reflections on his involvement in global and Asian ecumenical movements and especially
in the Council for World M ission, with emphasis on how to relate the people of the church
(the laos) with the people as nations (the ethne) and the people as multitude (the ochlos) -
a relation which is at the heart of mission.
One basic theme that runs through this book is the question of contextualization (or
inculturation, the term more commonly used in Roman Catholic circles) of Christianity. As
in the case of African Christians, Asian Christians frequently bemoan the captivity of
theology to theological discourses imported by the missionary movement. According to
Niles, however, in the case of Asian Christians the challenge of contextualization had to be
faced also with regards to Latin American liberation theology, some of whose
representatives seem to have been of “the opinion that they spoke for all oppressed people”
(21). In light of this theological deficit, for several years, while serving with the Christian
Conference of Asia, he dedicated himself to develop a theology with Asian roots - a
theology that takes seriously the role of religion and culture in shaping people’s lives and
views “dialogue” as a theological method. Later on, having been appointed as Associate
General Secretary for Finance and Administration of the same ecumenical body, he learned
208 Book Reviews
the valuable lesson “to read budgets rather than theological statements to get a better
understanding of the mission priorities of churches and organizations” (23). His stint at the
W orld Council of Churches, as Director of the “Conciliar Process of Mutual Commitment
to Justice, Peace, and the Integrity of Creation,” he says, “turned out to be [his] farewell to
ecumenical innocence” (24). All these experiences prepared him for his tenure, beginning
in July 1991, as General Secretary of the Council for World Mission (CW M, formerly the
Missionary Society and then the London Missionary Society), which became the conduit
through which he could express his ideas on what it means to be the people of God as laos
with a missionary vocation.
The insights that D. Preman Niles was able to implement through the CW M could
be summarized as follows: “A New Arrangement for Mission” (Chapter 3): “Those who
previously only received [churches in the Majority W orld] have to learn to contribute to the
missionary task, and those who previously contributed [churches in the W est] have to learn
to receive” (47). Consequently, to make sure that all churches related to the CW M were
valued as equal contributors, a new decision-making system was set up which equalized the
power relation between the churches, and the material resources that belonged to the old
London Missionary Society in Britain were placed in a common financial pool.
“Sharing People in M ission” (Chapter 4): “The mission of the early missionaries
of the modern missionary era [such as W illiam Carey, John Smith, Van der Kemp, and
Philip] resonates with the ministry of Jesus with people. It provides us with directions for
the understanding and practice of missionary service today” (81). Consequently, in order
to demonstrate that partnership in mission has much more to do with the sharing of
personnel than with the sharing of money, the CW M continues to encourage the sending of
missionaries, but the missionary who is sent may be supported with financial resources from
a common pool of money to which all the churches in the CW M contribute and through
which “the [traditional] nexus between personnel and financial control is cut” (81).
“Sharing Resources of Money” (Chapter 5): “Mammon… must be used for a
purpose. It must be used against its own ethos, which is expressed as greed with its desires
to accumulate capital… Instead, the wealth entrusted to us must be used against its own
ethos to serve the poor, whom the system of mammon has disadvantaged and will continue
to disadvantage. But such service cannot be simplistic, ignoring the very character of money.
Discipline and shrewdness are required from both of those who provide and those who
receive, so that we are not deceived” (92). Several pages are dedicated to describe the
effective way in which the CW M exercised discipline and shrewdness to decide how to use
“the grace received” – the proceeds from the sale of a piece of land owned by CW M in
Hong Kong – within a “system of dis-grace” – “the global economic arrangement in which
all facets of life are being integrated through the world market” (97).
W hile in chapters 3-5 Niles concentrates on the people as the church (the laos) -
“a missionary community that could be the bearer of Christian mission today” (107) - in
Book Reviews 209
Chapter 6 he reexamines common assumptions made in the W est with regards to the way
in which the people as nations (the ethne) relate to God and to Israel. He concludes that
Although God’s dealings with Israel are narrated in the Old Testament
and the gospel accounts, in what may be called the main redemption
history, the nations do not simply hover in the background either to be
ignored or to symbolize God’s rejection and punishment. They have an
important role to play. . . .they provide a counterpoint to the main story
(130).
Chapter 7 is dedicated to exploring a different sketch of mission history into which
this “counterpoint to the main story” fits - an alternative paradigm that the author defines
as “the people of God in the midst of all God’s people” (131). From this perspective, the
framework of God’s mission is, in Choan Seng Song’s words, “the universal nature of God’s
dealing” with humankind (139). In Chapter 8 this paradigm for Christian mission is tested
in the context of the religious-ethnic strife that affects today’s world. In Niles’ view, in this
context the churches are called to be channels of God’s peace, by confessing Jesus Christ
as God’s reconciling power at work in the world as well as by resisting the powers of
darkness that create division and strife among people.
Preman Niles has succeeded in providing us, out of his life experience, an excellent
treatise on what real partnership in mission means and in challenging us to rethink Christian
mission in today’s world.
Reviewed by C. René Padilla, Emeritus President, Kairos Foundation, Buenos Aires,
Argentina
Mission in the Former Soviet Union, W alter W . Sawatsky and Peter F. Penner, eds.
Schwarzenfeld, Germany: Neufeld Verlag, 2005. 295 pages.
The collection of articles, edited by W alter Sawatsky and Peter Penner, consists
of papers read at the conference on “Mission in the Former Soviet Union” (February 2003)
at the International Baptist Seminary in Prague, focused on the special contribution by
American Mennonite historian, Professor Walter Sawatsky, Elkhart, Indiana. His five
articles constitute half of the collection. Sawatsky published his first volume on the Soviet
Evangelicals as early as 1980 and is one of the world’s leading experts on the history of
Eastern European Protestantism. Other contributors are Peter Penner, professor of mission
in Prague; Marina Karetnikova, St. Petersburg, Russia; Johannes Dyck, Lemgo, Germany;
Mark Elliott, W heaton, Illinois; and Viktor Artemov, St. Petersburg, Russia.
The articles offer a broad historical background to the post-Perestroika mission
activities, starting from the beginning of Christianity in the Kievan Rus, thus putting
Evangelical missionary activities into the broader framework of Christian mission in Russia
(Sawatsky) and the historic developments of the 19 th century (M arina Karetnikova), tracing
the centrality of mission and evangelism in the theology of the Slavic Evangelicals to their
historic roots (Sawatsky), the role of Scripture interpretation and distribution in the context
210 Book Reviews
shaping the missional identity of the Evangelicals in the region (Penner), and the special
contribution to the missionary revival in the 1980s coming out of the Church Restoration
Pattern laid by the Revival among German Evangelicals in the Soviet Union after W orld
W ar II (Dyck).
Another set of articles covers the actual mission activities in the Former Soviet
Union (FSU), critically evaluating both the practice of native Christian denominations
(Penner, Sawatsky, and Artemov) as well as the W estern missionary participation
(Sawatsky, Penner, and Elliott).
In his closing article, Sawatsky attempts to discern the pattern of God’s intended
mission in the CIS.
All the articles in this very readable volume seem to agree that mission in the FSU
can only be understood properly by taking the broader context of the whole church
development in Russia and the Soviet Union seriously. This is a timely reminder in light of
the chronic inability of the W estern church to do contextually sensitive mission. W alter
Sawatsky’s article, “Centrality of Mission and Evangelism in the Slavic Evangelical Story,”
on the success and failure of the Co-Mission Project in the context of the historic
background of the Church in Russia, is especially relevant here. It is a must read for Western
missionaries interested in missions in and to the CIS.
Furthermore, Sawatsky and Penner argue that dialogue on mission inside the CIS
and among all the churches involved in mission (Sawatsky), as well as with the foreign
missionary agencies (Penner) is imperative, if the transformation of missions in the region
is to succeed at all. I could not agree more! Both authors present their appeal for dialogue
on mission to the Evangelical reader, which limits the use of the articles for conversation
with other denominations in the region. It would have been very helpful to add such voices
to the volume, though this was perhaps not the main aim of the conference in Prague.
Nevertheless, the articles invite engagement in such a dialogue, which has been a passion
of Professor Sawatsky for years. This book might bring his vision a step closer to becoming
reality one day. The road toward the realization of that vision in the CIS, he suggests in his
concluding article, is a dialogical, contextually sensitive, and transformative missiology,
rooted in the concept of the missio dei.
The overview of missionary practice in the remainder of this volume is limited to
a look at programs like education (Penner) and camping ministries (Artemov). The book’s
title, Mission in the Former Soviet Union, suggests a fuller introduction to the topic, than
is realized. It would have been helpful to add to the volume a general overview of what
different churches have done and are doing in missions today. Such an overview would have
highlighted for the uninformed reader the need for the good analysis offered here by the
authors. The reduction of the numerous difficulties Western missionaries face entering the
CIS to the visa issue (Elliott), important as this may be, is also problematic.
These shortcomings, however, do not diminish the great value of Mission in the
Book Reviews 211
Former Soviet Union in providing a deeper understanding of God’s mission in the FSU. All
in all, the volume offers a good analytical tool, which will help to understand the genesis and
direction of what has been called post-Perestroika missions in the CIS. All those interested
in this part of God’s story with His people ought to read the book.
Reviewed by Johannes Reimer, DTh, Professor Extraordinarius, Department of Missiology,
University of South Africa (UNISA), President of the European Association for Higher
Learning and Research.
Design of My Journey. An Autobiography. By Hans Kasdorf. Fresno: Center for M ennonite

Brethren Studies & Nürnberg: Verlag für Theologie und Religionswissenschaft,
2004. 360pp, photos, bibliography.
Reviewing the life of Hans Kasdorf, to whom Paul Toews referred as “one of the
leading Mennonite Brethren missiologists”, is particularly relevant given the comments in
the current issue of Mission Focus on W ilbert Shenk as leading missiologist for the (old)
Mennonite Church. Kasdorf and Shenk have been good friends for the past thirty years at
least, yet Kasdorf’s review of his developments and Shenk’s biography written by this
reviewer (as drawn from extensive interviews) say remarkably little about each other and
each other’s churches. That is a good reminder of how much the cross fertilization in
missiological thought and practice, that this journal has sought to foster among Mennonite
denominational traditions, has been more implicit than explicit. On the other hand, were we
to pursue the comparison further, it is intriguing to ponder how differently Shenk’s thinking
was stretched by examining the life of the English Church Missionary Society executive
Henry Venn, and how Kasdorf’s grasp of missiology was initially rooted in his doctoral
study (D.Miss) of the German Protestant founder of the discipline, Gustav W arneck. Later
Kasdorf also worked extensively with David Bosch and others at UNISA for a Th.D degree
plus completing a dissertation on Mennonite Brethren mission thinking from 1885-1985.
Both had associations with Fuller Seminary, Shenk eventually teaching there as that
seminary broadened its focus, Kasdorf getting his first doctoral degree there in 1978, but
writing it in German.
Readers of Mission Focus may recall Kasdorf’s article that appeared in the 2002
issue, “Becoming an Anabaptist Missiologist: Reflections from the Road”. In it there were
descriptions of his call to mission when still a child in Brazil, with no formal schooling after
third grade, when the first book that fell into his hands was Fritz Blum’s Erweckung Gestern
und Heute [Revival Then and Now]. Perhaps the most telling lines in the article were his
articulation of mission principles as understood by a seasoned practitioner and teacher. In
the Autobiography those principles come through periodically. Kasdorf divided the book
into five major parts, of which only the last three develop his missiology. I have chosen a
slightly different five part frame that emerges from Kasdorf’s autobiography, in order to
show a link from the Blum book to K asdorf’s “retirement” years in Europe. Blum was a
212 Book Reviews
teacher at an evangelical missionary school in Switzerland - late in his career Kasdorf met
students of Blum to explore the theological story further. But it seems to make sense that
within the Mennonite Brethren world, and to some extent that of other Russian Mennonite
traditions, the way in which revival, mission and service were expressed was the fruit of
frequent interaction with that German speaking Pietist tradition. Kasdorf ended his career
helping such Evangelikal mission schools rediscover their missiological roots.
Kasdorf’s first two parts constitute 185 pages compared to the 160 for the
remaining three parts. Those first two consist of numerous chapters about his beginnings in
Siberia, which his family left when he was only two, and the next 19 years (1930-1949)
trying to survive in the difficult pioneer conditions of the Krauel Settlement in Brazil. For
Kasdorf this was necessary in order, with the help of numerous citations from other scholars,
to clarify the impact of the Siberian setting (Slavgorod) where there had been 10,000
Mennonites as early as 1913, and to show how the flight to Brazil had shaped his community
theologically. Their group’s decision for Brazil gets a more insightful explanation here,
Kasdorf drawing attention to the degree that North American M ennonite leaders’
disapproval of their group’s decision for Brazil, and also its later influence by German Nazi
thinking affected mission relationships for many years. W e learn much about Brazilian and
Low German culture, and experience Kasdorf’s preferred idiom of expression - namely
dynamic preaching with much use of Bible and his own poetry. Telling the stories of
difficulties and traumas gets closer to the emotions experienced when written as poetry. So
it is fitting that Kasdorf remarked that although the word ‘culture’ was not in his vocabulary
when living at Krauel, his immersion in that culture helped him understand culture more
dynamically than merely to define it as “the sum total of learned behavior socially acquired”
(Nida, quoted p. 139). Culture, so Kasdorf, “is a dynamic paradox, simultaneously
mysterious and perspicuous.” Further, it “is largely invisible” but “its manifestations are
everywhere” and culture is “pervasive and infusive ... restrictive and reductive - therein lies
its power.” (p. 139).
The sections of most interest for missiologists need to be seen as a progression of
training and ministry, in three or four cycles, depending on how one delineates the periods.
Kasdorf’s first remarkable break came when he was invited to come to W inkler Bible
School (M anitoba) in 1949. This was followed by Mennonite Brethren Bible College
(W innipeg), by which time he had met many key MB leaders in the area of mission. Kasdorf
married Frieda Reimer of Yarrow BC (between Bible school and college) and then returned
as a church planter to Blumenau, not that far from where the Krauel (later abandoned)
settlement had been. At least three points to ponder slip through - “we were not included in
the negotiations” (p.221) when support for him as non-North American missionary
sponsored to his “homeland” was established. Secondly, for church planting he discovered
the “key word: visitation”. Third, he began to propose an MB conference when it became
apparent that “each local church was an island unto itself” (240).
Book Reviews 213
There followed 14 years back in USA, much of it as student, which Kasdorf titled
“mission interrupted” but which was in reality a sustained “quest for guidance”, also a quest
in light of the changes in mission understanding during the 1960-70s. I will highlight only
the fact that Kasdorf nearly studied at the Institute for Church Growth in Oregon had it not
been moved to Pasadena that year (1964). Kasdorf finished a BA degree at Tabor, then
worked on an M Div at M BBS while teaching at what is now Fresno Pacific University, and
then began to get serious about missiology by studying at Fuller. Toward the end there was
a formative trip through Latin America that included time at Latin American Theological
Seminary (Costa Rica) when studying the Evangelism in Depth movement and discovered
there that “they interpreted evangelism to include literacy programs, health services, and a
variety of developmental projects... to improve the quality of life for the people.”(275)
Kasdorf then began thinking of teaching missiology as his mission. Getting the
D.Miss at Fuller caused him to understand missiology as a distinct discipline, which “crosses
curricular frontiers and boundaries”, embracing social sciences, humanities, and biblical
studies as core for theological content. His 15 years at MBBS as professor of missiology
(1978-1993) coincided with a major effort to launch a decade in mission. Kasdorf wrote a
major vision statement for integrating mission into the seminary curriculum, that was also
influenced by his participation at a consultation on being “missional” held at AMBS in
1981. Another key moment, so Kasdorf, was a global consultation of MB leaders, known
as Curitiba 1988 which energized him, also through an extensive preaching itinerary in his
home country. Here he began speaking of a “quadruple approach in missiological
communication” that involved the elements of inspiration, information, motivation, and
celebration. As the reader notes frequently, Kasdorf’s thinking idiom is more
communication and preaching, than to examine analytically what the initiatives he listed
achieved.
W hat does come through consistently are words of counsel, quick reflections on
what might have been if only..., and the understandings of what mission must be about, but
that keep on changing. Kasdorf stated that missiology’s “greatest challenge is its pilgrim-like
nature”. Good missiology must be informed about the past, keep abreast of the present, must
give direction to the church on its responsibilities and calling it to a vision. That is, it is
“always missiologia viatorum”, and Kasdorf’s autobiography merely tells of his personal
role, the “Design of My Journey.”
Reviewed by Walter Sawatsky, Professor of Church History & Mission, AMBS.
Church Planting Road Map, by James R Nikkel. Belleville, ON: Guardian Books, 2004.
339 pages, $21 US; $32 CND
James Nikkel is a church planter of considerable experience with the Mennonite
Brethren in Canada. This book draws on his experience in a systematic presentation of basic
church planting principles. I recommend it both to general church readers and particularly
214 Book Reviews
to those with direct interest in church planting.

Nikkel’s intent is to provide a method for church planters, so that readers will know
how to go about planting a church. In this he succeeds well. I especially appreciated reading
a book that acknowledges and builds on the Canadian context. Too often writers ignore
North America north of the border; Nikkel writes as a Canadian well aware of his context.
The book grows out of the Antioch Blue Prints, which were developed to enable
the Mennonite Brethren Church to live out their commitment to church planting. The first
chapters deal with “Contextual Challenges” – which sets the Canadian scene excellently;
“Biblical Foundations” – which considers some of the ways that the Bible points the church
towards evangelism. A primary focus is, as the name, “Antioch blue prints” suggests, on the
New Testament church itself (58-63).
A critical chapter on “Divine Calling” prepares one for the core chapters of the
book: “Crucial Beginnings,” “Impact Variations,” “Planting Preparations,” Strategic
Implementation,” and “Intentional Organization.” Currently involved in a small church plant
as a founding member, I found these chapters helpful – often showing steps that we omitted
and should have taken. Some of the steps are unnecessarily programmatic. Saturation
telephoning (124), for example, has its place; but when there is a list of “do not call”
customers to discourage telemarketers, it may be wise to use other methods. The strength
of Nikkel’s presentation is that he gives many other ways to advertise one’s presence.
The remaining chapters cover “Church Membership,” “Daughter Parenting,”
“Cultural Diversity,” “Apostolic Leadership,” “Personal W itness,” “Church Outreach,”
“Church Finances,” “Church Facilities,” and “Information and Technology.” One sees from
the list the breadth of wisdom Nikkel shows in the topics he covers. Virtually any question
one may have in church planting finds at least a suggested answer in this work.
This comprehensiveness has its drawback. M uch of Nikkel’s material is presented
in point form or severely abbreviated, like notes for a power point presentation. This format
left me feeling that I wanted to read something smoother – perhaps the added comments in
a class as he presents these ideas.
This observation leads to a pertinent critique. His programmatic style reminds one
of what missiologists call “managerial missions.” 1 I found myself uneasy with the
implication that planting a church resembles a recipe. Nikkel’s own experience in church
planting suggests that he knows well enough that church planting is not a matter of recipes,
but of the Holy Spirit’s movement; but his style leads one to wonder.
The difficulty of “managerial church planting” is reflected in references to vision
casting (130, 149). Art McPhee (Mennonite church planter and Associate Professor of
Mission and Intercultural Studies at AMBS) has referred to the importance of receiving a
1
Samuel Escobar, “Evangelical Missiology: Peering Into The Future,” in Global Missiology for the
21s t Century, William Taylor, ed. (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, Academic, 2000), 109.
Book Reviews 215
vision rather than “vision casting.” 2 Vision casting connotes a process of persuading people
to agree with the church plant’s core vision. M cPhee suggests that the members and leaders
need to listen together for God’s voice to speak within the church. The vision that God
reveals then guides their actions. Nikkel (149) uses similar language, but the danger of
managerial missiology remains.
I note one other minor point. The book appears to assume that church planters are
men – as is the case for most M ennonite Brethren churches. But surely, if we wish to help
M ennonite churches in general to join in planting churches, we recognize that many
Mennonites and Brethren in Christ have had both men and women in leadership for some
time.
In closing, this compressed and comprehensive presentation whets the appetite for
more. One realizes quickly that Nikkel is a master of this material. Readers in the churches
of Canada and the United States will profit from this compendium of study and wisdom.
They may well wish to have the opportunity to pursue the ideas he presents by having him
lead a series of teaching sessions in their churches. If the book prods more of us to discover
his passion and join in the joyful task of church planting, Nikkel will have achieved his goal
– to inspire Christian churches to walk the road of faithful discipleship and thus bring
seekers from across North America and beyond to baptism and to full obedience to Jesus
Christ as Saviour and Lord.
Review by Daryl Climenhaga, Associate Professor of Global Studies, Providence
Theological Seminary in Manitoba, Canada
Origen the Egyptian: A Literary and Historical Consideration of the Egyptian Background
in Origen’s Writings on Martyrdom by Nancy R. Heisey. Nairobi, Kenya:
Paulines Publications in Africa, 2000. 240 pages.
Andrew F. W alls, one of the premier historians of world Christianity, has observed
that “we have to regard African Christianity as potentially the representative Christianity of
the twenty-first century.” As such, W alls went on to say “the characteristic doctrines, the
liturgy, the ethical codes, [and] the social applications of the faith will increasingly be those
prominent in Africa” (The Cross-Cultural Process in Christian History, 2002, 85). W alls
elsewhere says that African Christianity will also cause the re-writing of church history.
This is what Nancy Heisey does in this seminal volume. Indeed, she concludes this
volume noting that “this study pushes out a little further the knowledge that Africa has an
ancient Christian story and urges that this story, in all its richness and diversity, be taken
seriously by those who care about the church in Africa at the beginning of the twenty-first
century” (219).
Heisey brings rich experience in Africa and with African churches to this study,
2
Based on a conversation at the meeting of the Association of Anabaptist Missiologists, AMBS,
Elkhart, IN. November 12, 2005.
216 Book Reviews
originally a Ph. D. dissertation at Temple University. She served as a teacher in the Congo
and as administrator of Mennonite Central Committee programs across the continent. She
and her husband Paul Longacre made a notable contribution to Mennonite and Brethren in
Christ missiological thinking and practice through the two-year-long International Study
Project (1987-1989) sponsored by Mennonite mission boards and MCC. Heisey is currently
Professor of Biblical Studies and Church History at Eastern Mennonite University.
Origen has long been recognized as one of the most influential of the early church
leaders. His reputation in biblical studies and theological thought was established already
during his lifetime as a teacher and writer. Perhaps he was, as Hans Kung calls him, “the
only real genius among the Greek church fathers.” Most scholars have tended to view him
as part of the Greek ecclesial elite so prominent in Alexandria, one of the intellectual centers
of the early church. He also appears to have had a contagious Christian spirit as described
by ancient and modern biographers.
Nancy Heisey does not write a new biography. Rather she mines the extensive
corpus of Origen’s writings, especially the Exhortation to Martyrdom, to discover Egyptian
and hence African influences on his thinking as theologian, pastor, and teacher. Nancy and
others suspect that Origen’s mother may have been from Upper Egypt. His father was
presumably Leonidas who was martyred in 202 C.E. when Origen was seventeen years of
age. This event was a profound moment in his development as a Christian disciple and
stimulated a commitment deep enough to face the possibility of such a death. Some
historians suggest he himself was a “thwarted martyr.” He surely was a devout Christian
ascetic who became, as Eusebius says, “a eunuch for the sake of the Kingdom of heaven.”
He likely died in prison in the year 251.
As background for understanding Origen’s views of martyrdom, Heisey studied
Egyptian views of death as well as those found in Hellenistic cultures including Judaism and
early Christianity. She explores the writings of Clement of Alexandria, a precursor of
Origen, and of Tertullian, a North African contemporary. Origen’s point of view was rooted
in an asceticism practiced by many who seriously adhered to Jesus’ call to discipleship, self-
denial, and bearing the cross.
The heart of this volume consists of two chapters devoted to an “Intertextual
Analysis” and “Historical Markers” of the Exhortation to Martyrdom. In good dissertation
fashion, Heisey discusses the contribution of intertextual theories in the study of literary
materials, ancient and modern. These theoretical understandings are significant in assessing
“traces” and “echoes” of Egypt and Egyptian thought in Origen’s writings. “Such glimpses
may even brush one or two new colour strokes onto the vast panorama of early Christianity”
(105).
Heisey demonstrates that Origen’s “ideas about martyrdom were based on the
ancient Egyptian idea that one had to live rightly in order to be admitted, after death and a
strict judgment, to the final place of blessedness” (157). This was the foundation to which
Book Reviews 217
he added biblical and Greek philosophical insights, including the image of Christian
devotion as an “athletic contest.” “Throughout his work, Origen revealed himself as an
Alexandrian-Egyptian, even when he used negative images of his homeland” (170).
There is much more to this volume than can be cited here. The philosophical and
theological richness of martyrology has not received much attention in recent western
Christianity. But surely in China, Central America, and other locations of persecution
discovering this study of Origen will strengthen the Christian movement.
A decade ago while visiting Presbyterian and Anglican churches in southern Sudan,
I was moved by their understanding of suffering as a badge of the faithful church. No
wonder this study was published in Africa. Not only will African readers discover the
theological richness of the early African church, they will also gain insights for their own
Christian practice.
This is one dissertation that fruitfully “pushes out a little further” our knowledge
of church history while creatively responding to needs of the contemporary worldwide
church.
Reviewed by John A. Lapp, Executive Secretary Emeritus, Mennonite Central Committee
and Coordinator of the Global Mennonite History Project.
Beautiful upon the Mountains: Biblical Essays on Mission, Peace, and the Reign of God.
Mary H. Schertz and Ivan Friesen, eds. Elkhart, IN: Institute of Mennonite Studies,
Co-published with Herald Press, 2003. 268 pages. Foreword by J. Nelson Kraybill.
After the crisis in W estern missions around 1970, churches and missiologists have
had to relearn that Christian mission is God’s mission. Therefore, it must revolve not around
the church or W estern culture but around the kingdom of God. And if it is God’s mission,
then it must be done God’s way – as revealed and modeled by Jesus of Nazareth and
illustrated in the Bible. In Beautiful upon the Mountains, the writers seek to discern if the
Bible has an overarching vision for mission, and if so, how this relates to peace and the
kingdom of God.
The book’s title derives from Isaiah 57:2, which says: “How beautiful upon the
mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news, who
announces salvation, who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns’." The editor’s preface rightly
claims: “Isaiah’s song about a messenger who announces peace and brings good news is not
a lone voice in the biblical wilderness. Rather, from Genesis to Revelation, mission and
peace are inseparable as the vision of God’s reign” (xiii).
This claim is borne out in the fourteen penetrating exegetical essays by as many
Mennonite biblical scholars, that give readers a guided tour through the Bible, touching
down on all the key literary genres and time periods, probing for a central, unifying
message. W e are shown that the “covenant relationship” of the rainbow (Gen 9:1-17), never
revoked by God, “is a significant passage for mission and peacemaking… because it
218 Book Reviews
represents a new beginning between God and humanity” (3). The Gentiles, about whom God
cares deeply, are asked in the Noachide covenant to be “good Gentiles” with the same moral
duties that the Jerusalem Council (Acts 15:29) enjoins later on Gentile Christians (16). The
Psalms, Israel’s worship resource, frequently proclaim God’s kingship over all peoples and
creation. Gordon Matties asserts (with Brueggemann): “when announcements about the
reign of God are made in worship, Israel is engaging in ‘the work of evangelism’” (18).
The prophets are also seen to presuppose the rule of God over both Israel and the
nations (cf. Isaiah 2, Micah 4) – even enemy nations (Jonah) – a reign in which God leads
them and in which armaments are converted to peaceful purposes. There is no more training
for war; there is peace with justice, for each has his/her own livelihood. In the Gospels,
Jesus also predicates his life and teaching on the in-breaking reign of God, which he himself
embodies (Mt 11:26; Lk 4:18-21). His proclamation begins and ends with God’s reign; he
tells kingdom parables, heals the sick, feeds the hungry, brings good news to the poor, gives
himself for his enemies, and thus ushers in the costly peace and justice through suffering
love – like Yahweh’s Servant in Isaiah’s Servant Songs did. Paradigmatic of Jesus’
interethnic peacemaking mission is his exchange with both the Canaanite woman (Mt 15:21-
28) and the Samaritans (John 4; 161-177).
Here lies the foundation for Paul’s insight that in Christ ethnic, gender, and class
distinctions have been relativised (Gal 3:28); through Christ, God has reconciled the
rebellious world to himself and made a new creation. W e are now God’s ambassadors of
peace inviting everyone to become part of God’s reign of peace (2 Cor 5). Similarly,
Ephesians 2 celebrates that “Christ is our peace” because through the cross he has
dismantled the wall of enmity between former enemy peoples, creating unity in harmony but
without erasing cultural uniqueness. 1 Peter likewise urges Christians to witness by living
as God’s “priestly kingdom” that constitutes a living temple of God. They are to live humbly
and with integrity and bear innocent suffering as Christ did before them. Finally, Revelation,
for all its apparent violent scenes and imagery, is no less committed to the peaceable “war
[and rule] of the Lamb,” which through martyrdom and resurrection brings the kingdoms
of the world into subjection to the rule of God (5 & 11:15). This way of witnessing promises
a reconciled humanity, gathered with all of creation and all of heaven’s beings in joyous
worship before the throne of God and the Lamb.
Dorothy Jean W eaver concludes: “In Matthew’s view, the call into mission means
not only total engagement on behalf of the kingdom of heaven but also profound
commitment to the ways of peace” (143). Other essayists report similar findings on their
investigations (cf. 74, 177, 247).
As a teacher of missiology, I had the chance to try out this book in a missions
seminar. Its essays proved to be both accessible and engaging to the students.
Beautiful upon the Mountains will prove valuable to biblical and mission scholars,
adult study groups, and any readers interested in missions well beyond the historic peace
Book Reviews 219
churches.
Reviewed by Titus F. Guenther, Ph.D., Associate Professor, Theology and Missions
Canadian Mennonite University, Book Review Editor, Mission Focus: Annual Review
Reinado de Dios e imperio: Ensayo de teología social, by Antonio González, Santander:

Editorial Sal Terrae, 2003. 414 pages, hardcover.
Antonio González is a former Jesuit priest who has been re-baptized at the Brethren
in Christ Church in Madrid, following his growing understanding of Anabaptism. In addition
to years of teaching and scholarship at a Catholic University in Spain, González brings eight
years of work among the poor in El Salvador to bear on his latest book Reign of God and
Empire: An Essay on Social Theology. It was his own spiritual/theological pilgrimage that
led González to convictions akin to Anabaptism and his subsequent joining of this
community of faith. 3
The "social theology" of Antonio González represents his attempt to think anew,
from the roots of the Christian faith, the social implications of this faith, offering fresh
reflections on the old topics of state, social justice, equality, power and violence. Making
use of the descriptive and analytical tools of the social sciences, the first two chapters show
the seriousness and the internal logic of many of the problems affecting our globalized world
(particularly poverty and social injustice). Chapter three offers a biblical "diagnostic" of the
problems that affect our world today. From this perspective, sin – defined as "self-
justification," in essence distrusting God and wanting to be like God – constitutes the root
cause of the problems that threaten to destroy our world. A review of Genesis 3 - 11 shows
the various manifestations of this "Adamic logic of self-justification" which distorts every
aspect of God’s original plan for creation. Distrust, manipulation, domination, violence and
social oppression are the basic structures of human beings and their institutions after Adam.
Chapters 4 - 7 develop the biblical "therapy" offered for the problems described thus far.
The election of Abraham and the Exodus are two key events, which define the nature of
God’s response to sin. Trust in and obedience to God’s will (faith) replace idolatrous self-
justification based on our own merits. Exodus from the oppressive economic system of
Egypt and the creation of an alternative society under the direct reign of God are God’s
response to sin and its manifestations. Frequently distorted by Israel’s failure to live by
Abrahamic faith, the realization of God’s original plan has become possible in the reign of
God inaugurated by Jesus Christ, the Messiah. Although God’s reign cannot be limited to
nor identified with the church, the church is called to make visible God’s reign.
Renunciation of power, believers’ church, and discipleship (non-violence and economic
sharing) are the pillars of a radically counter-cultural community, which allows God’s reign
to transform all aspects of its life, thus transforming the world from below.
3
Biographical information obtained from Mennonite Mission Network news release (April 9, 2004).
220 Book Reviews
The last two chapters seek to interpret the "signs of our time" looking for
manifestations of God’s reign in various movements and initiatives in our own time and
attempt to define the nature of Christian collaboration in the project of constructing a new
society.
González’s book contains many stimulating ideas that have the potential for
enriching the Anabaptist-Mennonite theological discussion beyond the Spanish- speaking
realm and will no doubt generate fruitful dialogue with non-Anabaptist faith traditions.
Anabaptist-Mennonite readers could perceive its lack of explicit dialogue with the
Anabaptist tradition as a weakness, but it might be a strength in its original Spanish context.
By omitting explicit acknowledgment of its Anabaptist kinship, the book will have a better
chance of generating dialogue with (formerly) “Constantinian” churches.
González’s book demonstrates fine scholarship. However, some concrete examples
would have helped to illustrate the characteristics of a community under the reign of God.
Although González clarifies that "theology has to be satisfied with contributing general
criteria which need to be applied creatively" (357), the lack of concrete examples, raises the
question if this vision really can become a historical reality as the author repeatedly insists.
At several points, the discussion of the book suffers from a lack of conceptual clarity. For
example, there is repeated mention of "renouncing all material wealth" in order to enter into
the messianic community characterized by social equality, but it does not become clear what
degree of economic sharing the author understands by this (cf. 299, 303, 345, 359, 369).
One further gets the impression that all charity and development projects are unacceptable
forms of paternalism (302, 332, 345, 378f.). The concept of "anonymous Christianity"
mentioned in passing (302f. 367) begs clearer definition. Parts of the book develop technical
arguments beyond the grasp of non-experts in certain fields of study. Chapter two, for
example, contains a highly technical discussion on the nature of capitalism, presupposing
a background in economics.
González’s differentiation between his own social ethics and (Stanley Hauerwas’)
theological communitarianism is perplexing. He criticizes the latter for its lack of an
adequate philosophical foundation, which presumably prevents it from entering into a
rational ethical discussion with movements that do not share the Christian tradition (389).
In contrast, González advocates a rational grounding of ethics (388). Regarding Matthew
25, he argues that it deals with basic ethical obligations that concern all rational beings,
whether believers or not. A more explicit definition of the book’s philosophical and
theological premises would be helpful.
The average lay reader of Latin America will find this book rather challenging.
Likewise, its level of difficulty puts in question its usefulness as a class text at the
Book Reviews 221
theological seminary where I teach. Clearly, however, it will be a valuable resource for
scholarly research. However, a thematic index would heighten the book’s practicality in this
regard. I would strongly recommend González’ book for theological libraries.
Reviewed by Gustav Guenther, who teaches Theology and Ethics in the Faculty of Theology
at Universidad Evangélica del Paraguay.
Echoes of the Word: Theological Ethics as Rhetorical Practice, by Harry J. Huebner

Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 2005, x, 264 pages, $29.50.
Post-war Mennonite theology can be roughly divided into three generations. The
first is best identified with John Howard Yoder and the Concern group. It was often
preoccupied with 16 th century issues on the one hand, and Reinhold Niebuhr on the other.
The second is perhaps remembered best for their seemingly interminable debates about the
possibility of a M ennonite systematic theology, waged in the pages of Mennonite Quarterly
Review and Conrad Grebel Review by theologians such as J. Denny W eaver, James Reimer
and Tom Finger. The third is just emerging, mostly from graduate schools deeply imbued
with post structuralism and postcolonial theory. Among its representatives are Gerald
Schlabach, Travis Kroeker and Chris Huebner. They are relatively unconcerned with the
16 th century, but fluent in postmodern thought and/or able to read the church fathers in ways
that the first and second generations never cared to. Both the second and third generations
assumed Yoder’s status, but the second, with important exceptions, read Niebuhr as a
serious challenge and Gordon Kaufman as avant-garde. The third reads both, if they do, as
moments in a tired and tedious history. The second often sounded like it was apologizing
for Yoder’s old-fashioned Anabaptism. The third reads him alongside Foucault, Derrida
and Said as an honored member of the postmodern canon. The second, when it worried
about issues of philosophical foundationalism, did so clumsily. The third is mostly worried
about the way ‘non-foundationalism’ has become a new mode of resisting difference. Harry
Huebner belongs to the second generation, but by intellectual inclination he is firmly in the
third generation. As such, Echoes of the Word is best read as a bridge from one generation
to the next. There is an essay on Kaufman and occasional references to the Niebuhrean
debates as well as detailed attention to 16 th century Anabaptism. But there are also
engagements with Nietzsche, John Milbank and Michael Hardt and Antonio Negri.
But maybe ‘bridge’ is a misleading image, or at least an inadequate one. Huebner’s
own image is ‘echo.’ Bridges span gulfs with solidity and permanence. Echoes careen
haphazardly off the cliff sides below the bridges and fade almost instantly into the din of
rushing water, rumbling Humvees. The image of the title suggests at least two things. That
this book is an echo of the W ord and that this book is the voice of one who has spent a
lifetime listening for the echoes of the W ord around him. Huebner is convinced the W ord,
the life of one first-century Jewish teacher crucified by an occupying power, still echoes and
can, with patient attention, still be heard. It can be heard, for example, in the dementia of
222 Book Reviews
Alzheimer’s (Ch.11, On Being Stuck W ith Our Parents) which provokes the question, “How
can the church offer salvation to one who can no longer pray or sing or read the Bible or
attend church or accept communion” (171). A question that is tied, in this essay, to the
question of the futility of the church’s nonviolence. It can be heard in the work of Christian
Peacemaker Teams (Ch.13, Peacemaking and the Prophetic Imagination), where Huebner
suggests anguish, sorrow and lament as a basis for justice, in stark contrast with the
hyperbolic pacifist colonialism of the 1984 Ron Sider speech that started CPT. It can be
heard in the church’s discipline, renarrated (in Ch. 6, Church Discipline: Is it Still Possible?)
not as “punishment” but as the training that is pre-requisite to skill, whether of hitting a
baseball or forgiving another.
But perhaps the most compelling essay is “Moral Agency as Embodiment: How
the Church Acts.” There are several reasons this essay stands out. One is that here the echo
is heard bouncing off the bloodstained, bullet-ridden walls of places like the occupied
Palestinian territories (where Huebner was an MCC worker in the early 1980s). Moreover,
the W ord can be heard echoing in the lives of Palestinian children. That should not be
surprising, given what Jesus had to say about children. Yet it is surprising for readers of
philosophy and theology. M ark Edmundson, who appears in these pages, once lamented the
failure of philosophy (with the notable exception of W ittgenstein) to attend to the voices of
children. “Is there,” he asked, “in Plato, in Aristotle, in Descartes, Kant, Hegel, any positive
image of childhood?” So when a book of theology and philosophy arrives, the centerpiece
of which (at least on my reading) is a story about children, it is worth sitting up and taking
notice. That Huebner turns to children here is crucial for unpacking his understanding of
moral agency. The church, he argues here and throughout the volume, is a sign of the
kingdom, not the midwife of history. Its task is not to bring about the kingdom but to
witness to the autobasileia. The question is not “how can we bring about the kingdom on
earth,” but “what is God doing in Christ and in us?” He calls it “a mustard seed view of
moral agency” (76) and locates it in the journey of Abraham, the slaves of Egypt, the life
of Jesus and in Palestinian children of the first intifada. It was “the naïve, uninformed and
unrealistic children” (79, quoting Jonathan Kuttab) in Gaza who first refused the orders of
the soldiers and first threw stones at the military jeeps and in doing so inaugurated a new
and revolutionary Palestinian consciousness.
Huebner turns to the children of the Palestine that shaped him because “the only
social power children have is the power to point with naïveté beyond themselves to another
power— moral integrity, or truth, or God. But this is precisely what they do better than
adults because they naturally realize that they are not in charge and can only have power by
participating in another’s power.” (79). There is a lot in these two sentences, at least a
lifetime of reading Yoder in places like the W est Bank and Baghdad, places where they say
“1948” the way North Americans say “9/11.” And there is that little “or” in “moral
integrity, or truth, or God.” An essay subtitled “how the church acts” offers as its central
Book Reviews 223
example, a story of kids, the overwhelming majority of whom were surely more at home in
a mosque than a church. The capacity for such irony is one of the things that separates good
theology from bad.
Reviewed by Peter Dula, Mennonite Central Committee Iraq Program Coordinator.
Purpose, Evolution and the Meaning of Life, by John F. Haught, edited by Carl S. Helrich,
Kitchener, ON: Pandora Press, 2005. Pb.130 pp. $15.50 US/ $17.00 CDN.
The search for purpose and meaning has generally been undertaken within the
realities that have emerged in the last ten thousand years of human history. In these three
lectures, prepared for the fourth annual Goshen Conference on Religion and Science, John
Haught (Healey Professor of Theology, Georgetown University) takes us much farther back.
A million times farther back. Can the vast stretch of cosmogony and evolution that precedes
human existence and human culture be brought into the same theological conversation that
flows from Scripture? Haught takes the plunge, inspired by the pioneering thought of Pierre
Teilhard de Chardin and Alfred North W hitehead and guided by historic Roman Catholic
theology.
The long history of the universe and the earth before the biblical era has usually
been told by scientists who see it all in terms of dead matter that moves according to
physical laws. Life appears from time to time but only as highly improbable arrangements
of dead molecules, and the ultimate fate of the universe is to be even more finally dead. How
does a Christian theist proceed against the cosmic pessimism and strong materialism of best
selling authors such as Jacques Monod, Stephan Jay Gould, and Daniel Dennett? Boldly,
it seems. Haught’s mission is to offer the hope and optimism of a Christian understanding
of the world to a generation discouraged by such toxic reductionism.
Haught’s strategy is first to question the adequacy of atomism as a way of
understanding the world and then to offer a vision of the past and the future that goes
beyond reductionism, and beyond Darwinism. He does not question the validity of science
as it is being done; he just wants to go much deeper into the reality of existence.
In the first lecture, “Science and Cosmic Purpose,” a helpful analogy is developed
to illustrate the various depths at which something can be understood. To a monkey, Moby
Dick is just black smudges on a white surface; to a child in first grade it is a collection of
mostly meaningless symbols; to an adult it is much more. This theme is picked up again in
the third lecture, “On the Origin of Life,” where Haught mentions the classical concept of
primary and secondary causation, and modifies it into “layered explanation,” which makes
room for both scientific and theological versions of the truth with minimal conflict.
Having carved out a legitimate place for theology, Haught goes on to find
theological meaning for the universe that takes into account what we know about cosmic and
biological evolution. In Teilhard de Chardin he finds the kind of optimism that transforms
the long history of the universe into an epic, which resonates with themes we are already
224 Book Reviews
familiar with from Scripture: Christ’s incarnation, resurrection, and glorification. W ith
W hitehead he sees the world not just as matter and energy, but as a succession of events
with an open future; an eschatological vision not unlike the New Creation or the Kingdom
of God into which we have been invited by the call of the gospel.
The second lecture, “Darwin and Divine Providence,” addresses the most
troublesome area in the current science-religion debate, that of intelligent design. Haught
thinks that to emphasize design in nature is to invite scepticism about the goodness of the
Creator because there is so much in nature that is imperfect. Our understanding of creation
must go much deeper than just marvelling at the wonders of nature; it must also take into
account the horror that seems to be inherent to the way in which creation actually works. But
instead of succumbing to despair, we must focus on the promise of the future and on the
kenotic suffering of God as the world is brought forth. The future comes slowly but God’s
patience eventually becomes recognizable as God’s providence.
The lectures are followed by a wonderful sermon entitled, “God the Gardener,” by
P. Douglas Kindsche, a mathematician. The gardener is an apt analogy because of the
interplay between control and freedom that typifies the tension always present when we talk
about God’s creative activity.
An unusually extensive record of post-lecture discussions (46 pages) is included.
Here Haught freely admits that his understanding is incomplete. W hat about eschatology?
Is there a scientific dimension to the New Creation? Is the Christian believer's view of the
future radically different from that of secular cosmologists? These are the most difficult
questions because they go so far beyond our knowledge of God’s intentions for the world,
and Haught admits as much.
Reviewed by Glen R. Klassen, Senior Scholar at the University of Manitoba and Adjunct
Professor of Biology, Canadian Mennonite University.

Mission Focus Vol 13

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Mission

The Changing Face of the Protestant Church in China

Forum: Mission Studies in Theological Education - Current

Ecumenical Missiology in Anabaptist Perspective

BOOK REVIEW S . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 199-224

Peter F. Penner. ed. Christian Presence and Witness Among

Samuel Escobar, Changing Tides: Latin America & World

Arthur G. McPhee, The Road to Delhi: Bishop Pickett

D. Preman Niles, From East to West: Rethinking Christian

W alter W . Sawatsky and Peter F. Penner, eds. Mission in the

Hans Kasdorf, Design of My Journey. An Autobiography. (W alter

James R Nikkel, Church Planting Road Map. (Daryl

Mary H. Schertz and Ivan Friesen, eds. Beautiful upon the

Antonio González, Reinado de Dios e imperio: Ensayo de

Harry J. Huebner, Echoes of the Word: Theological Ethics as

John F. Haught, edited by Carl S. Helrich, Purpose, Evolution

Northern Christians and the Global Christian M ovement

M ission Focus: Annual Review © 2005 Volum e 13

the International Committee of Mennonite Brethren (ICOM B) in 1990 represent other

M issiology of Acts as Shaper of Contemporary Thinking

about Acts’ influence on perceptions of contemporary missionary theology.7 David Smith,

Paul’s M ission and Other New Testament M issions

Paul frequently describes himself as the “apostle to the nations/Gentiles”(Rom

W hile 1 Peter has generally been understood to be addressed to Gentile believers,

Cities W here Apostolic M issions Intersected

Paul’s M ission and the Collection

M ission Focus: Annual Review © 2005 Volum e 13

M issionary Plans on His M ind

Praxis W hen Authorities are Coercive

W right’s overall reading of Romans shares Toews “subversive” understanding, as when he

Contextual Conditioning W hen Reading Romans 13 Globally

Economic Reading of Romans 13 is Relevant

2. The Brethren in Christ in Bulawayo

Daryl Climenhaga, D. Miss. is Assoc. Professor of Global Studies, Providence Theological

M ission Focus: Annual Review © 2005 Volum e 13

stations in Matabeleland (M atopo, Mtshabezi, W anezi, and Phumula) with numerous

3. Three Phases of Research

4. The Picture Today

4.1. The Brethren and Christ and Ethnic Identity

4.2. Leadership Challenges

4.3. The Youth and Pentecostalism

5. W here the Research Needs To Go

Texts: Isaiah 52.6-8, Revelations 21.1-5

Willis G. Horst, married to Byrdalene, is completing more than 30 years of a ministry of

M ission Focus: Annual Review © 2005 Volum e 13

Eternal Life, Here on Earth

Bringing good news,

A New W ave of God's M ission

The time is right (kairos) for re-defining mission in our Anabaptist-oriented

M ission Focus: Annual Review © 2005 Volum e 13

Focus on the Periphery

Care for Creation

Interpreting the Bible

The Shape of the New Call to M ission

The Particularity of Jesus

A New Call to M ission

M ission Focus: Annual Review © 2005 Volum e 13

2. The Rise of Protestant Pacifism in China, 1918 to 1925

father for all of humankind was very appealing to pacifists.

3. Organizational Decline and Theological Reflections, 1925 to 1937

Agape as the Nature of God and Principle of Universe

Jesus and the Sermon on the M ount