Brian Hamilton

Catechesis as Training in Christian Servanthood

Paper presented at Messiah College for the annual C. Henry Smith Oratorical Contest. Placed first in the college competition and third in the binational competition.

Who is a member of the church?—the question has preoccupied Christian communities for two millennia, but no clear consensus has emerged. Some have killed over the question; others today have come to ignore it. Nevertheless, many churches continue to wrestle with the issue, because they recognize the importance of a community that knows its own convictions and holds its members accountable to those convictions. Without confessing what it means to be a member of the church, “church” becomes an amorphous and largely useless idea; a church without a convictional framework could never mirror the One whose memory we claim, a Nazarene who did not hesitate to love, teach, or correct.

In 1962, General Conference Mennonite Church published a catechism—a document summarizing central Christian principles in question-and-answer form. In question eighty-five, they dare to ask: Who is a member of the church? “He who repents, is baptized upon his faith in Jesus Christ, and lives a life of obedience to Jesus as Lord.”^{a id=“r1” href=”#fn1”>1} This response assumes doctrinal assent on at least one point—that Jesus is Lord—but finds the process of moral transformation much more important. The process begins with repentance, leads through baptism, and ends in a transformed life of obedience. Implicitly, this response upholds believer’s baptism, which Anabaptists have defined as “entry and incorporation into the Christian church as a faith community in which believers are called to live out their new humanity in Christ.”^{a id=“r2” href=”#fn2”>2} Any description of Anabaptist baptism must find both community and discipleship foundational.

The Anabaptist-Mennonite response becomes even more distinct when we consider Martin Luther’s catechetical insistence that “the visible Church is the whole number of those who use the Word of God and profess the Christian faith, but among whom, besides the true Christians, there are also hypocrites.”^{a id=“r3” href=”#fn3”>3} Luther does not ignore action, but his emphasis falls on professing, on doctrinal agreement, and not on obedience or transformation. For the heirs of the radical reformation, those baptized are those committed and prepared to order their lives in relation to the life of Christ; more than that, they are committed and prepared to do so accountable to the broader community of believers.

Why, then, has our catechesis, our pre-baptismal instruction, remained so doctrinal? If baptism marks a pledge to this peculiar community with its peculiar ethic, how can we avoid that our catechesis move from intellectual assent to historic Christian dogma to practical life training under the reign of Jesus Christ? We cannot assume that converts already know how to love their enemies—we must teach new Christians just as Jesus taught his disciples. Anabaptists have consistently proclaimed the church as an intentional community of believers, but we have often neglected the importance of practical training for living intentionally. Infants in Christ must be taught the doctrinal convictions of the church, yes, but to stop there is to deny the insight of our Anabaptist forebears into the centrality of moral transformation in the gospel.

Generally, when we set out to talk about peace, we leap immediately to the monumental issues of international warfare or world hunger. We leap because we care—these issues matter, and our commitments compel us to concrete action. But such starting points already assume the existence of a people who are committed to peace and who know how to make peace. Historic Anabaptists knew that the peace of Christ finds primary expression in dedicated community; many of them even withdrew from the surrounding culture in attempt to embody their vision. As modern Anabaptists, we confess that a commitment to peace also entails conversation with the powers of this world—but we too know that it does not begin there. The first step to making peace is not influencing public policy, but training disciples. Said differently, peacemaking begins with catechesis.

A famous passage from the Epistle to Diognetus, written in the second century, describes on odd community. These people share their food, return respect for insults, and bless even those who condemn them. “What the soul is to the body,” the letter reads, “that Christians are in the world.” These are truly peacemakers! This community knows its convictions, and knows how to enact them. Alan Kreider attributes this extraordinary consistency to the Early Church’s mode of initiation,^{a id=“r4” href=”#fn4”>4} and I think he’s right: the Early Church could band together because a demonstration of commitment to the church and its faith was a prerequisite for baptism. The Early Church required three years of catechesis with daily teaching sessions. The candidate’s sponsor monitored lifestyle decisions and so taught community accountability. Thus we hear that Cyprian, an upper-class baptismal candidate, learned to love and serve the poor through his catechetical training. And James McClendon calls Alexandria’s catechetical school a Christian training ground, where those aspiring to baptism learned how to live, not just explain, a gospel life.^{a id=“r5” href=”#fn5”>5} Perhaps such an initiatory practice today would beget a church similarly known for its love for neighbor and its love for enemy.

To speak of peace we must speak of practice. What does this new paradigm of peacemaking as discipleship training mean in the context of particular congregations? How should it shape the way we approach catechesis? Our steps should recall the practice of the Early Church and the convictions of historic Anabaptism, while keeping in mind our own context and needs.

First we must recover a sense of honesty about the preparedness of devotees to live a life under the authority of Jesus as Lord. Stanley Hauerwas gratefully recalls being required to undergo a year of training before joining a particular Methodist church, since, as his pastor told him, “Your history does not give me much confidence that you understand what it means to be a member of the church.”^{a id=“r6” href=”#fn6”>6} All who approach will need training. We cannot, in a moment of parental excitement, assume that a candidate already knows all there is to know. A set term, perhaps a year, should provide the baseline expectancy for catechetical instruction—much less than the Early Church, but a fair goal for a community trying to reinstitute practical catechesis.

Second, our catechesis must be fundamentally relational. Each candidate should have a mentor who is already a member of the church. The mentor will relate most closely with the candidate and will be the one who testifies to the congregation about his or her behavior and commitment. The two should attend teaching sessions together, and the mentor should answer the candidate’s questions or connect the candidate to other members of the congregation with relevant experience. Interaction with a mentor of a different background will challenge the candidate’s understanding of otherness.

Third, teaching sessions must cover biblical story, church history, and congregational background. Churches must demonstrate the importance of locating ourselves in the biblical story, and teach the candidate how to read and use the Bible. Memorizing passages like the Sermon on the Mount and Isaiah’s eschatological vision will provide important resources for encountering present reality and imagining beyond present circumstances. The ability to grasp the broad sweep of church history and re-tell specific stories makes possible a more profound understanding of our identity and enables us as a church to nurture a collective memory. Candidates should also learn the history and broader structure of the church they wish to join, so as to better participate in congregational decision-making.

Fourth, catechesis must involve concrete service to the church and to the broader community. Service within the church will make the candidate aware of congregational needs and connect the candidate with other members of the congregation. Anabaptists have unique insight into the importance of the faith community for discipleship, and should stress community accountability and service in their catechesis. Broader community engagement will serve as a reminder that the church only lives in service to the world. The candidate’s mentor should serve alongside the candidate wherever possible—especially early in the training.

Finally, engagement with dominant cultural attitudes should run as a constant theme throughout the catechesis. As candidates learn about biblical and Christian history, interact with a mentor, and serve the community, they must also be learning how these attitudes interact with the culture that surrounds them—as Kreider puts it, learning to be resident aliens. Candidates should learn how to engage American militarism, consumerism, and individualism (among many other things) in a way consistent with the teachings of Christ. Youth, for example, should learn about laws concerning conscientious objector status; older adults should re-examine accepted occupational practice.

That we have trouble grasping the connection between peace and catechesis betrays a fundamental disconnect in our Christian imaginations. When we think about peace, we cannot avoid thinking about the church and her practices; we rely on those practices to recall the Christ who is our peace. When we think about the church, we cannot avoid thinking about peace; for what is the church if not reconciliation? Every attempt at peace must ultimately trace back to the community of disciples who makes peace. So in the knowledge that only a faithful catechesis can form faithful peacemakers, “go, and make disciples.”

31 March 2005 |
tags: Miscellaneous