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INTRODUCTION

Stuart Murray

UNLIKE EARLIER radical movements, whose writings were suppressed and eradicated, the sixteenth-century Anabaptists have bequeathed a rich legacy to future generations. The Hutterites in particular have preserved hundreds of hymns, letters written from prison, encouraging responses by church elders, and confessions of faith.

Peter Riedemann’s Love Is Like Fire falls into this last category. Some years later he would write a much longer and more detailed confession, which would be adopted by the Hutterian Brethren as their community’s statement of faith and practice, but this earlier confession by a courageous young prisoner reveals very clearly his passions and priorities.

Unlike many sixteenth-century texts, this confession is concise and eminently readable. This is deliberate. Riedemann writes, “I do not want to make my message too long-winded and thus too tedious to pay attention to.” Much of the confession consists of expositions of creedal statements shared by all Christians, amply illustrated with biblical quotations and the rehearsing of biblical narratives. Riedemann’s prose is lucid, passionate, and often poetic.

It is sometimes claimed that the early Anabaptists were non-creedal. They certainly preferred confessions to creeds: creeds were fixed, focused on beliefs rather than practices, and were so often used to anathematize others, whereas confessions were provisional, open to further revelation, and included issues of discipleship as well as doctrine. But many early Anabaptist communities made use of the traditional creeds to instruct their members, and many writers used them as a framework for their tracts and treatises. Riedemann employs this strategy. His confession deviates from this framework on several occasions in order to explore issues about which he was especially passionate or to challenge traditional beliefs and practices, but much of the confession is an exposition of traditional creedal affirmations.

ANOTHER FEATURE of Anabaptist spirituality is the role of narrative. Stories have been passed on down the generations and have profoundly shaped Anabaptist communities, and Anabaptists have paid particular attention to the narrative sections of scripture. So it is not surprising that Riedemann, as he expounds creedal statements, does so in narrative mode. Some sections of his confession consist in a straightforward and winsome rehearsal of the biblical narrative – the creation story, the fall of humanity, and the life of Jesus. The section on Jesus Christ is of particular significance. Traditional creeds say almost nothing about the life of Jesus, passing immediately from “born of the virgin Mary” to “suffered under Pontius Pilate,” with only a comma representing what happened in the intervening thirty-three years. One of the most important legacies of the Anabaptist tradition is its insistence that the life of Jesus is not just an incidental precursor to his death and resurrection but of paradigmatic significance for those who would follow him. Riedemann summarizes the narratives in the Gospels and concludes: “He has gone before us so that we may follow in his footsteps.”

In our contemporary postmodern and post-Christendom culture, people prefer narrative over doctrinal claims. Many people still respect Jesus and are intrigued by his life and teaching despite their disdain for the church. And people find the language of “following” (typical of Anabaptist writings) helpfully humble and invitational. Although some of Riedemann’s language may seem rather dated, these central motifs are not.

Love Is Like Fire contains potent and evocative images. Commenting on the cosmic conflict that underlies the biblical story, Riedemann declares that “Satan had bound us so tightly with his ropes and stood like an armed man” but God “sent the strong hero, Jesus Christ our Lord, against whom no one can prevail,” who “burst the chain and the prison that held us.” Most Anabaptists have been committed to nonviolence, but their writings do not shy away from the reality of spiritual warfare. Riedemann recognizes that biblical interpretation is also a battleground: “There is a single phrase in scripture that the whole world holds on to and brings up triumphantly here and there, thinking that with this they have won the battle.” But he is convinced that careful exegesis will counter false understandings and writes, “If one looks at it thoroughly, it strikes them from their perch.”

Throughout his confession there is certainly evidence of Riedemann’s thorough exegesis. In some places his attention to detail may result in over-exegesis of particular biblical passages, but this is a young man who has immersed himself in the scriptures. His confession has a discernible bias towards Johannine texts (and, like others in the sixteenth century, he draws occasionally on Apocryphal books – Tobit and Esdras), but he has a broad-based biblical knowledge. He not only reflects deeply on specific texts but weaves together various biblical passages to support and illustrate his teaching. This is a challenge to contemporary churches, many of which are characterized by biblical illiteracy.

ALTHOUGH RIEDEMANN uses the framework of the traditional creeds, his confession emphasizes beliefs and practices that were characteristic of Anabaptism. He affirms the key Reformation insight that “through faith in Christ we become devout and just before God – as a gift,” but he insists that “faith is a power that works righteousness and easily carries out all God’s will.” The grace of God not only wipes away past sins but empowers disciples to live as followers of Jesus. Anabaptists tended to place greater reliance than most of their contemporaries on the work of the Holy Spirit and the capacity that the Spirit gives ordinary people to live as faithful disciples of Jesus. In another poetic passage, Riedemann writes: “He is a father to the poor and miserable, strength to the weak, comfort to the mourning, a guide to the truth for those who go astray, a light to those who sit in darkness. He raises the fallen and gives all the varied gifts of God: quiet rest to those who labor, and coolness and stimulation in the heat of distress and affliction.”

The subjects on which Anabaptist prisoners were most frequently questioned were baptism and the Lord’s Supper, so it is not surprising that Riedemann devotes considerable attention to these topics. God had given detailed instructions about baptism, as he did to Noah in relation to the ark (Riedemann uses this story, as Peter does, to illustrate the meaning of baptism). He explains why one of the New Testament passages used to justify infant baptism (Acts 16:23–33) is wrongly interpreted for this purpose, and insists that “infant baptism is no baptism at all, but unnecessary washing” with no biblical basis. He concludes: “Let no one rely on being able to say he baptizes infants with good intentions, for God wants his will to stand, not ours.” Baptism, Riedemann teaches, is a response to the proclamation of the gospel and a commitment to discipleship.

In a post-Christendom context, some have argued that this issue no longer carries the freight it did in the sixteenth century. Infant baptism today may be as countercultural as believer’s baptism was then. And advocates of either form of baptism no longer tend to insult each other in such lurid ways. But perhaps we still need to pay attention to Riedemann’s central point: no matter how honorable may be the pastoral concerns of those who baptize infants, and no matter how insightful may be their theological justifications of this practice, if a biblical basis for this cannot be established, “good intentions” are inadequate.

In his teaching on the Lord’s Supper, Riedemann explains that this has a horizontal as well as vertical dimension: “It is necessary to consider Christ’s death and our death, and also Christ’s love and our love.” Communion is certainly a remembrance of Christ’s death, but it is also a sign of commitment to Christ and to his people. He concludes this section with a challenging call: “Whoever eats the Lord’s bread and drinks from the Lord’s cup without first examining himself to see if he is ready to give his life for the truth of the gospel and for his brothers and sisters eats and drinks judgment upon himself.”

RIEDEMANN WROTE as a prisoner in a context of persecution. He was experiencing the suffering about which he wrote and knew his readers also faced this. The serious, but not somber, tone of his confession is entirely appropriate in this context. He had interrupted his exposition of the creed with a short parable about the church as a house constructed of many trees that were “cut down, squared, planed, and prepared according to the master’s pleasure, and then joined together as a house.” He returns to this image at the end of the confession and concludes with an extended parable describing the seven pillars on which the house is built. Throughout this section he urges faithfulness and hope in the face of persecution and suffering.

How do we engage with this in a very different context, in western societies in which suffocation by tolerance is a greater danger than persecution? This context might change, of course, in which case Anabaptist writings will have added poignancy, but in the meantime maybe these writings can help us identify prayerfully with our brothers and sisters in other contexts facing persecution and suffering. The house Riedemann describes is a global community, and we are invited to share in the suffering of other members.

But the dominant theme in this confession is named in its title – love. The first five sections are all about love. Riedemann revels in the love of God for fallen humanity: despite our sin, God “could not restrain and hide his love.” And it was love that motivated Jesus: “Out of love to us he did not spare his own life, but gave it for us all.” In response, we are to love God wholeheartedly and to love one another – familiar themes but powerfully presented and illustrated with many New Testament texts and references. And, in typically Anabaptist fashion, love for one’s enemies (not just one’s neighbors) is explicitly included. After all, God’s love reaches out to his enemies: “What great love that is! God comforts us, his greatest enemies,” writes Riedemann, urging his readers to love their enemies because “love takes hold of people” and this might lead them to the knowledge of God.

In a deeply conflicted world we need to hold on to this hope and embrace this response. And we need to heed Riedemann’s warning that “love is like fire”:

When it is first kindled in a person, small troubles and temptations smother and hinder it; but when it really burns, having kindled an eagerness for God, the more temptations and tribulation meet it, the more it flares, until it overcomes and consumes all injustice and wickedness. But when love is not practiced, when one grows lazy and careless, it flickers out again; one’s heart grows cold, faith declines, and all good works cease…. Love flows from faith; for where there is no faith there cannot be love, and where there is no love there cannot be faith. The two are so entwined that one cannot be pleasing to God without the other.

Stuart Murray, author of The Naked Anabaptist and other books, is chair of the Mennonite Trust in the United Kingdom and has a PhD in Anabaptist hermeneutics.