The Authority of the Church in the World:  A United Church of Christ Perspective, Rev. Dr. Susan E. Davies
 

A Peace Church in the World:
A Church of the Brethren Perspective

Rev. Dr. Scott Holland
Associate Professor of Peace & Cross Cultural Studies, Bethany Theological Seminary. 

As a professor of peace studies at Bethany Theological Seminary and minister in the Church of the Brethren, I am often asked by members of our denomination, "Are we still a peace church?" The question emerges from an uneasy recognition that many in our pews and some in our pulpits no longer embrace our biblical and theological heritage of peacemaking in a blessed but broken world. This question also emerges from our ecumenical involvements and commitments. As members of the international body of Christ, some wonder if we should continue to accent denominational distinctives that some sociologists of religion have called sectarian markers rather than central doctrines of churchly identity. 

Aware that many contemporary Brethren are indeed ambivalent about and even resistant to the claims that peacemaking is indeed central to our Christian and denominational identity, how do I answer this question? 

This past year I have been answering this honest and probing question with a narrative. I have been telling the story of our church's active involvement in an international and ecumenical vision of peacemaking. When the World Council of Churches declared this time in history as a "Decade to Overcome Violence," the executive secretary of the WCC invited theologians and leaders of the Historic Peace Churches—Brethren, Mennonites and Quakers—to help the Council articulate and embody the theology and practice of peacemaking. We of course said, "Yes!" It is rather ironic that while some in our denomination are distancing from the identity as a peace church the broader Christian community is looking to us for some guidance on how to overcome violence and live peacefully, simply and together. In fact, our ecumenical friends are telling us that our heritage of peacemaking is one of the greatest gifts we Brethren can offer not only to the world but also to contemporary Christian ethics and evangelism. 

Our evolving story of seeking to be a living peace church led Bethany Seminary to become the host institution for planning and fundraising for a major gathering of Peace Church and ecumenical leaders in Nairobi, Kenya in August of 2004. There we heard terrifying accounts of violence yet also hopeful stories of reconciliation from our brothers and sisters from Kenya, Nigeria, Rwanda, Sudan, Congo and many other African countries. 

At Nairobi, I was invited to present an opening address on what it means to be a peace church in the world. I now invite readers to join me at our conference center outside of Nairobi in the high hills of Kenyan tea country. The following words from my African address will provide a window into a current, international conversation on a public theology of peacemaking or a call for the church to be in the world for the good of the world. 

In a world like ours, a world of harsh ideologies, tribalisms, and clashes between fighting gods, it is well to remember that Jesus, whom the biblical witness calls the Prince of Peace, often comes to us as a stranger. Indeed, Jesus also comes to us as a friend and it is wonderful to know Jesus in this way. But it is likewise marvelous to be surprised when Jesus appears to us as a stranger. 

There is a great temptation in any religion to domesticate the divine and thus make God our own family, churchly, tribal or national deity. The genius of the Judeo-Christian tradition's representation of God is seen in the diverse stories through which the divine presence in history is presented as both familiar and totally other or strange. I would suggest that as we work for peace in a broken world we need to be especially attentive to the times when Jesus comes to us the stranger. 

The Hebrew Bible presents us with the astonishing story of Melchizedek. He was not of the tribe, clan or faith of Father Abraham. He came out of the desert to tent of Abraham offering a gift of bread and wine. Abraham greeted and warmly received this stranger. Bread was broken and wine was poured as Abraham and Melchizedek communed together. Abraham even paid this mysterious visitor a tithe. This man, Melchizedek, was a stranger priest from the far country. 

The New Testament writer of the Book of Hebrews offers a shocking interpretation of this Melchizedek narrative. We are told that Jesus is not really like the proper priests from the familial lines of Aaron and Levi; instead, Jesus is more like Melchizedek. He is more like this stranger priest from the far country. This story helps us remember that we must be very attentive to and respectful of the stranger, the other, the alien, even the heretic. It helps us remember that a religion which fails to love and welcome the stranger can become a source of terror rather than transformation in the world. 

A peace church not only cares for its own members, its friends, but is committed to creating public spaces and democratic politics that are hospitable to strangers from the far country. These strangers may embody different religions, philosophies and lifestyles. The Historic Peace Churches have led the way not only in teaching peace theology to our members but also in presenting a doctrine of separation of church and state as foundational for a genuine public peace. We in this Peace Church heritage have resisted theocratic temptations whether embodied in the theologies and politics of Constantinianism, radical Zionism or shari'ah law. We are committed to a public peace. We are committed to seeking the shalom of the city. We are called to a ministry of reconciliation in all of life whether we find ourselves in the sanctuary or in the city streets. 

A meditation on the vision of the prophet Jeremiah provides a window into this call to be peacemakers in the world and for the world. Jeremiah calls us to a kind of worldly holiness as he tells the people of God living in exile to seek the peace of the city. The Jews, the people of God, were living in exile down by the rivers of Babylon and some of them felt they could not sing the Lord's song in a strange land. Some of their prophets and priests believed it was necessary to return to Jerusalem, the holy city, the high and exalted mountain of God. Yet Jeremiah said, "Someday you will return but now this is what you shall do. You shall build houses. You shall plant gardens. You shall take husbands and wives and have sons and daughters and seek the peace and welfare of the city, for in its peace you shall find your peace." 

It is very important to remember that this city to which the prophet refers is not Jerusalem but it is instead in the land of Babylon. We are called, it seems, to seek cultures of peace in this world. We thus do more than preach peace and protest war. We build houses and live in them. We plant gardens and joyfully eat the produce. We take partners and with hope have sons and daughters. In seeking the welfare of the city we are seeking the common good even by the rivers of Babylon. This prophetic vocation is a call to cultural engagement, to an experience of being a living peace church in a blessed, fallen world. Our shalom, our salvation, our redemption, must touch all of life in ways that lead to reconciliation not only between the solitary individual and God but also between solitary souls and society. 

The relationship of soul to society or the movement from the sanctuary to the streets is admittedly complicated and challenging. We are now seeing a rise of global fundamentalism. Many fundamentalists, whether Muslim or Christian, feel they have a God's-eye-view of the world and thus a right and a responsibility to impose their religion and politics on the entire public square. We in the peace church traditions have an important phrase, "no force in religion." Therefore, even if we feel we have seen truth, we do not impose that truth with the force of either the sword or the autocratic statute. This is why we are passionately committed to the separation of church and state and to the model of a democratic society that provides safe and hospitable space for a diversity of persons, politics and religions. 

We embrace the peaceful tradition of no force in religion but we do not retreat from society into sacred reservations. We know that to truly love the neighbor means that one must take some responsibility for the neighbor's history and well being. The idea of a public theology of peacemaking is grounded in the in the metaphor of seeking the welfare of the city which is really ministering to the common good. We seek not only the interests of our community or church because as ambassadors for Christ, we are called to a large and loving ministry of reconciliation in the world. 

Yet with so much God-talk in our world leading to bloody conflicts how do we speak in the public square? How do we go public with our faith? At times we might find ourselves speaking very confessionally while living redemptively even in secular places. However, my Nigerian students presented me with an intriguing possibility about this dilemma of sacred versus secular talk in public places. They suggested that at times the Holy Spirit can in fact lead us into a public discourse that is not heavy with God-talk but is nevertheless formed and informed by a living faith and a Christian worldview. I like this suggestion very much because the stories we tell and the speech we use can indeed provoke war or make peace. 

The Historic Peace Churches know that speech matters. Indeed, it matters so much that language must become material or incarnational; the word must become flesh among us again and again. Faith and following or speech about peacemaking and the embodied practices of compassionate service to others can never be pried apart. For this reason we insist that we are not merely historic peace churches but living peace churches. 

Yes, we are living in a world of increasing tribalism, nationalism, fundamentalism and violence. Thus, like Abraham, whom Jews, Christians and Muslims all consider a wise father of the faith, we must watch for that stranger priest from the far country. When we see him we must gladly greet him and commune with him. Then we must leave our tent and likewise carry the generous gift of bread and wine to others. What is this gift that we might offer to others at this particular moment in history? Our ecumenical friends tell us that our bread and wine is indeed our heritage of Christian peacemaking, for when they call us by name, we are still a peace church.

Author's Note: Benjamin Franklin, in his Autobiography, records a conversation he had with a Brethren minister about non-creedalism. Franklin contends that a formal creedal confession from this Dunker or Brethren faith community might improve its social status and increase its membership. In a response that sounds like postmodern narrative theology, this colonial Brethren minister argues on behalf of a story-shaped and service oriented theology rather than a creedal statement as the best testimony to the authority of the church in the world.