To take up the theological task is to work within the medium of words. This can only be done with a combination of boldness and humility, endeavoring to point toward a God who is not embarrassed to be described with such tools but whose being such tools are incapable of spanning. In preparing this manuscript I have often been reminded of these limitations. In spite of this, I seek to use certain terms in deliberate ways. For example, the terms “Jesus” and “Christ” will be used interchangeably to communicate the assumption that the Jesus of history is not separable from the Christ of faith. The term “church” will be used at times to indicate the community catholic and at others to describe local congregations. I am unconvinced that a neat separation of the two is relevant to the ontology of Christ’s body. When I speak of the church in a nonspecific way I usually intend the reference to be broadly understood, not merely referring to what occurs under the official auspices of specific denominations. The term “practice” will be often used to describe baptism in a generic sense. The terms “sacrament” and “ordinance” will be used with the specificity described earlier: the term “sacrament” applied to the practice in question to indicate that it effects what it signifies and the term “ordinance” when it functions only as a testimony to the work of Christ. If the terms “sign” or “symbol” are used in technical ways this will be noted. Beyond these specific terms I will employ some variety in references to baptism (i.e. “rite,” “ritual,” “ceremony”) to avoid a false confidence in the categorical distinctions of pure types. It seems to me that behind official denominational statements and confessional clarity churns the instability of congregational life in which the church’s practices are understood in numerous ways and with little consistency. I hope the raggedness of terminology at times communicates this.
At other points in this book the inconsistency of language is more regrettable. For example, while inclusive language will be used with respect to humanity, masculine pronouns are sometimes used with respect to God as this seems to be the only way to maintain the personhood and relationality of the Trinity. My assumption, though, is that such terms function analogically to describe the relationships of the triune God. They say little if anything about God’s gender or disposition. Lastly, at various times the focal community and thematic anchor of this study will be described as Christian, Believers Church, Anabaptist, or Mennonite. Some readers might even find evidence of my roots in the Swiss Mennonite tradition. These communities and the terms employed to name them are used to narrow or broaden the field of discourse at important points. The narrowing is not intended to be exclusive, but rather to clarify the participants in the conversation and the dynamics under analysis. It is impossible to fully represent the diversity of views held by those within any of these groups, and therefore it should be recognized that ultimately the argument presented here is my own.
Sequence
This project will proceed in three stages. The first, consisting of the first two chapters, is descriptive and analytical. Here I make the case that believers’ baptism must be reconceived. The first chapter focuses on the problematic phenomenon of young children being baptized in Anabaptist contexts and explores the theological assumptions that enable it. The second chapter furthers the analysis of the first by critiquing two alternatives to ecclesial mediation, which is the conceptual correction I propose. It also presents an outline of this concept in dialogue with the work of Karl Barth and John Howard Yoder. Though the analysis of denominational statements and confessions at various points in these first two chapters risks being tedious, it is essential to my approach that this book grapple with the practices and beliefs of actual communities instead of merely batting about the views of one theologian or another.
The second stage of the project will pick up where the constructive gestures in the first leave off and work toward an understanding of baptism through the larger topic of the relationship of the church to the second and third persons of the Trinity. The third chapter considers the work of Pilgram Marpeck alongside that of Dietrich Bonhoeffer to explore how Anabaptist communities might affirm that the church’s life is in some sense sacramental, that it constitutes God’s effective presence in the world. Here I propose that baptism be understood as a participating witness, a revision of Marpeck’s view. The next chapter opens with a description of a highly formative Anabaptist text, the Martyrs Mirror, and argues that God’s work through the church cannot be divorced from questions of the Spirit’s presence in this conflicted body across time. I suggest that even though this issue has been particularly challenging for Anabaptists, addressing it is crucial for a coherent construal of baptismal practice. Both of these chapters attempt to anchor believers’ baptism in the doctrine of God.
The third stage of this project moves from the theology proper discussed in the previous two chapters to a set of concrete recommendations. In this fifth and final chapter, I expand my description of baptism as a participating witness and, in conversation with ancient sources, propose a way of practicing baptism that can better serve the church and its new members.
My aim in this book is to make a contribution to the practical and intellectual life of the church. While the Anabaptist tradition claims roots in the Radical wing of the Protestant Reformation, it tacitly claims historical affinity with various movements and groups reaching back to the first century. Despite this long legacy of lived Christianity, Anabaptists have produced little critical theological reflection. I hope to contribute here to the newly blossoming body of literature written by those reflecting on Christian belief and practice from an Anabaptist perspective. A logical implication of this project for the Anabaptist community would be the conviction that our politics and ethics should be formed, and indeed could be greatly enriched by, bringing to bear a broader set of doctrines and practices than the more traditional, and I think highly reductive, methodological axioms of biblicism or non-violence. The ethical undissmissablity of non-violence will not be challenged here; however, it has become clear that this ethic alone is inadequate for developing a positive account of the life of Christian communities. The fruitfulness of the memory inherited in the full range of practices that make up Anabaptist life must be re-investigated to resource Christian faithfulness in our emerging post-Christendom context. Furthermore, since a broad group of Christians share the practice of believers’ baptism with Anabaptists, I intend this work to participate in conversations ranging across traditional lines of division because such networks are increasingly needed to sustain the performance of the Christian life.
The current disinclination of younger people toward denominational loyalty and the ongoing decline of previously dominant denominations make the future shape of the church in North America difficult to discern. However, cross-pollination between traditions and an ongoing transience among members likely means that old boundaries between communities will become fuzzier. As the rigidity and independence of traditional theological streams fragments, an opportunity will exist for Anabaptist theology to have a significant voice in describing how local church communities can maintain integrity in a disestablished context. In this