I am a cafeteria Mennonite

Maybe you've heard of cafeteria Catholics. Maybe you are one. Well in this post, Halden Doerge has a cautionary word for cafeteria Mennonites:

The Anabaptist tradition is not, first of all, about “nonviolence” but rather about the nature of discipleship, the church, the world and the meaning of Christ’s Lordship. You can’t divorce Anabaptist’s theology of peace from their commitment to things like believer’s baptism, voluntary church membership, congregationalism, the rejection of clericalism, and yes, opposition to certain understandings of sacramentalism. To do so is to fail to take the tradition with any real seriousness. The same is true for Anabaptists and Mennonites who quickly latch on to quasi-Catholic enthusiasm about sacramental theology. (Indeed, most of what I’m saying here applies, vice-versa, to free churchers who think they can appropriate whatever elements of Catholicism they find compelling, a similarly-common tendency.)

I came to a related conclusion a month ago when I taught a little course on the Didache for a dozen or so teens on campus for Project Burning Bush. I really wonder how compatible infant baptism is with the kind of high-commitment Christianity (non-violence, resistance to capitalism, church discipline as mutual accountability) that so many communitarians want.

I had the kids describe their last baptism they'd seen in their local church to each other, and then to the group as a whole. I asked, "How is baptism as it's practiced in your congregation similar to and different from what we read in the Didache?" Everyone zeroed in on the necessity for fasting prior to baptism as a big difference. After we talked a bit about the meaning of fasting as a spiritual discipline, I asked, "Why the requirement to fast prior to baptism?" One person answered, "Perhaps to make sure they really meant it when they said they wanted to join the Church."

So fasting was for potential Christians what organic chemistry is to potential doctors, a weed-out course! But they weeded out with Christian education too. The directions for baptism begin with, "After explaining all things..." referring to the lengthy ethical instructions that form the first part of the Didache. Cribbing from Matthew and/or Q, the author stresses non-violence and love of enemies.

No food and no retaliation. Can you handle that? If so, we'll baptize you.

What comes afterward is, well, keeping on keeping on. There's the Eucharist too, which, far from being an unbloody repetition of Christ's sacrifice on the cross, is a potluck in which the community gives thanks that they are the redeemed. No ordination. A lower case catholicity through accountability to outside oversight, but equal stress on not getting taken for a ride by so-called outside experts. It's not overreaching to say that the Didache is the primitive Christianity the Anabaptists were trying to reclaim.

The kids were cool to chapters one through six, which surprised me because the type of kids that would be attracted to PBB would tend to be earnest, and earnestness and morality go hand-in-hand. In fact, the kids found it judgmental. "Well, do you think that the Church ought to be for or against adultery?" I asked. "Against it," they replied, "but not for judging people who happen to sin. We should forgive."

I pointed out that in our congregations, the relationship between sacraments and Christian education is exactly backwards from the Didache's, which may account for their dis-ease. We'll baptize anybody, infants, toddlers, adults with precious little understanding of Christianity, and then we educate them, and hope they grow into it. "The Church of the Didache is a finishing school for saints," I suggested, "but you belong to churches that see themselves as hospitals for sinners. Which is the better model?"

I had them vote. All but one voted for the Hospital for Sinners model, mainly based on a concern for hospitality and need not to judge others. Which is not surprising because it's what they know. The lone hold out, argued, "Look, it makes no sense to have people in Church on Sunday, and then out on the corner selling drugs come Monday."

"What about that?" I asked. "The problem with our ecclesiology is that we really aren't a hospital for sinners; we're a hospice for sinners. No one gets better in our church. You can't tell us from non-Christians. That's why we get called out for hypocrisy so much." But they stood their ground, and I have to admit that their zeal for hospitality that animated their comments was quite compelling.

An MDiv student and PBB staffer wondered if there might be some middle ground. I suppose the catechumenate might be one way to go. There were lifelong catechumens in the fourth century, that century in which the Church pivoted from finishing school to hospital. Many worshiped and believed but weren't baptized because both they and the Church agreed that their secular work (soldiers, judges, senators, etc.) was incompatible with the Christian life.

But that tiered system of membership also had its problems. For one, belief wasn't enough to save, they thought. Baptism was necessary. A catechumen who slipped on the ice and broke his neck on the way home from church was thought to be just as lost as the most unrepentant pagan. And aren't catechumens just people who lack the courage of their convictions?

Maintaining a high bar for entry at the front end doesn't necessarily mean elitism and judgmentalism. In one of Hauerwas's little books he compares the Church to the Marine Corps. I'm sure Marines think rather highly of themselves, but they also think highly of the country they kill and die for. What about a Church of the few and the proud who genuinely love the world that God so loved?

It does seem doubtful that one can get to such a Church by taking on all-comers. On the other hand, I was baptized at six weeks old into a mainline Protestant denomination, and wound up hearing  a call to non-violence anyway. In fact, I know more pacifists and aspiring pacifists than I know Mennonites.

Shall we not suffer the little children to come unto Christ? For me, deep down, baptism is first and foremost about belonging. If belonging to the Church is solely a matter of volition, then not only can't children be baptized, but neither can the severely mentally retarded. Ever. We tell our kids, "You aren't ready yet" all the time, and were we all to become Anabaptists, we'd have to screw up our courage to tell grownups that too, but doesn't believers baptism mean that there are some who will never, ever be ready? And they're the least of these. I imagine my own son would be one of those. He's not mentally retarded, but he's curved in on himself enough due to his autism that it's doubtful that he'll ever be able to obey the Golden Rule except in fits and starts because he mentally incapable of closing the I/Thou circuit.

So I hesitate.

Comments

[John Lindsay]

http://www.leithart.com/2010/07/29/infant-baptism-and-church-history/

[The Charismanglican]

Thanks for this. I, too, am a cafeteria Mennonite. I'm from a tradition where believer's baptism, but now find myself within the Episcopal Church. I was a convert to Christianity at age 12. Now I'm a Dad with a 12 year-old (and three others).

I still haven't figured out where I land. You say that baptism is first and foremost about belonging. It is about belonging, but it's also about dying. I think I'm still just on the side of the Mennonites on this one.

Here's a place where I and some friends tried to work this out a bit:
http://theophiliacs.com/2010/01/23/open-thread-on-baptism/

[NJL]

Well, one might say by this logic that most modern-day Mennonites are also cafeteria Mennonites. The Anabaptist commitment to nonviolence arose in a time when the whole tradition consisted of converts from Catholicism, focused on propagating their beliefs, and facing severe persecution for it. Eventually the Anabaptist sects decided to largely abandon proselytizing in order to remain alive. Consequently, the voluntary nature of the church is mostly a formality; participation in Anabaptist traditions is more genetically determined than for any mainline tradition.

To say that the Mennonite commitment to nonviolence stems from the voluntary nature of the church is merely an historical formulation--it continues not because of the free choice of believers but because of the persistent influence of tradition. This is evident by the fact that the Quakers, who have no baptism whatsoever and wide tolerance for divergent beliefs, have maintained their commitment to nonviolence as well. There is no theological reason a Reformed pacifism or a Catholic pacifism could not be just as stable, they just doesn't have tradition behind them.

In fact, I could formulate an argument that infant baptism is more conducive to nonviolent Christianity (were there to be a infant-baptizing tradition committed to this) than "believers" baptism, as it is currently practiced. It is true that once upon a time believers baptism implied a commitment to the ethical values of the church (including nonviolence when applicable). This was a time when most people in these sects were baptized in their 30's, and no one younger than their 20's. Today? The average Mennonite baptism is 13 (and in Baptist churches children are often baptized at nearly half that age). What does emphasizing the centrality of personal decision mean when you encourage people to make these decisions by age 13? Who takes seriously decision they make at 13? This seems to me to be a clear case of building your house on a foundation of sand. Thus, it might be argued, that Mennonite theology is undermined by current Mennonite practice.

By contrast, the practice of infant baptism deemphasizes personal commitment and instead emphasizes God's calling. Of course, the Reformed theology is also undermined by current Reformed practice, as most Protestants no longer have their children baptized. But were this practice and theology to be wedded to a nonviolent ethical tradition, I think it would be equally conducive to this purpose as the old practices of the voluntary church, and more so than current Mennonite practice. For it posits that one's ethical commitments are not dependent upon personal volition, which is always changing, but upon God's immutable and inescapable calling, as evidenced by the practice of infant baptism.

My point is, the Mennonite commitment to nonviolence isn't dependent upon their theology and practice but upon their historical tradition. Thus, I would say, why shouldn't everyone else admire them for that and ignore the rest if they don't buy it, to say, "Hey, maybe we should import their commitment to nonviolence to our different theological/sacramental tradition"?

[Lee]

Wow - great comment, NJL!

[Marvin]

Yeah, I was just thinking today that I ought to copy and paste it into a post. In fact, I will do that right now!