Mennonite Peace Theology: A Radical Witness

For my major project in my Religion, Violence, and Peacebuilding class, we worked in groups to research a tradition connected to peace theology. My group was assigned Mennonite Peace Theology. Together, we wrote a comprehensive paper and gave a 20-minute presentation to the class summarising our findings. After completing the group work, each of us was asked to write an individual reflection on what we learned. I am sharing my personal reflection to give a glimpse into what stood out to me during this project.

When I began researching Mennonite peace theology for our group project, I expected to find a simple commitment to pacifism. Instead, I discovered a tradition that challenges the very foundations of how we think about power, justice, and faith. Mennonites don't just advocate for peace; they embody it in ways that push against cultural norms and even mainstream Christian ethics. Their approach is not abstract theory; it's a lived practice that demands courage and conviction.

For my part, I explored the historical roots and the literal interpretation of Jesus' teachings that shape this theology. What I learned reframed my understanding of discipleship and raised questions about what it means to follow Christ in a world marked with violence.

Below is the reflection paper I wrote for class, which dives deeper into these ideas:

Working on our group project about Mennonite peace theology gave me a deeper appreciation for how radically this tradition interprets scripture. Before this assignment, I understood pacifism in broad strokes, but I had never explored a faith community that takes Jesus’ teachings on peace and violence so literally.

My role in the project was to provide background and explain how Mennonites ground their theology in the Sermon on the Mount, particularly the call to “love your enemies” and “turn the other cheek.” This was not just theory for them; it was a way of life.

As I researched, I was intrigued by the diversity within Mennonite peace traditions. I learned about models such as Historical Nonresistance, Apolitical Nonresistance, Realist Pacifism, Liberation Pacifism, and Neo-Sectarian Pacifism. Each represents a different way of engaging with the world while holding fast to the principles of nonviolence. What struck me most was that being Mennonite today looks very different than in the 16th century, yet the core commitment remains: to reject violence and embody peace.

One idea that resonated deeply with me came from Donal Dorr: “Walk humbly with thy God.” This phrase captures the spirit of Mennonite theology, a humility that shapes their response to conflict. Historically, some Mennonites practiced nonresistance by withdrawing from society, avoiding political involvement, and refusing military service. While this stance protected their integrity, it often meant doing nothing in the face of injustice. Today, many Mennonites challenge this passive approach. They seek to transform their tradition into one that not only resists violence but actively promotes justice and reconciliation. This shift inspired me because it shows how faith can evolve to meet the needs of a broken world.

Engaging with these ideas raised important questions for me: What does it mean to follow Jesus’ teachings on peace in a violent world? Is pacifism practical, or even possible, when injustice demands action? Mennonite theology suggests that peace is not passive, it is a radical, costly commitment. It requires creativity, courage, and a willingness to suffer for the sake of love. This challenges my own assumptions about conflict. I often think in terms of defense or retaliation, but Mennonite thought invites me to imagine alternatives: dialogue instead of domination, forgiveness instead of revenge.

This project also made me reflect on the role of religion in shaping ethics. I have a complicated relationship with religion, yet I cannot deny its power to inspire hope and resistance to violence. Mennonite communities remind me that faith can be a force for good when it prioritizes compassion over control. Their example raises a profound question: How can we build a world where peace is not just an ideal but a lived reality?

In the end, this assignment was more than an academic exercise, it was a personal challenge. It pushed me to consider what I believe about violence, justice, and forgiveness. It reminded me that peace is not easy, but it is possible when people commit to it with humility and courage. Mennonite theology may seem radical, but perhaps that is exactly what our world needs.

This research left me with a sense of awe and discomfort, the kind that sparks growth. Mennonite peace theology isn't about avoidance of conflict; it's about active engagement through love, justice, and vulnerability. In a society that often equates strength with domination, this tradition insists that true strength looks like humility and reconciliation. It asks hard questions: Can peace exist without coercion? What does radical obedience look like today?

As Donal Dorr reminds us, the call to "walk humbly with thy God" is not a slogan but a summons to transformation. For Mennonites, that means building communities that reflect God's kingdom here and now, a vision that continues to challenge violence and inspire hope.

Sources:

Burkholder, John Richard, and Barbara Nelson Gingerich, eds. Mennonite Peace Theology: A Panorama of Types. Elkhart, IN: Institute of Mennonite Studies, 1991.

Ewert, Lowell, Mary Lou Klassen, and Derek Suderman. “Justice, Mercy, and Faithfulness: Human Rights and Mennonite Faith in the Context of Peacebuilding Practice.” In A Pilgrimage of Justice and Peace: Global Mennonite Perspectives on Peacebuilding and Nonviolence, edited by Fernando Enns, Nina Schroeder-van ’t Schip, and Andrés Pacheco-Lozano, Wipf & Stock, 2023.

Written for PHIL 366G class UVU Fall 2025]
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Faith, Doubt, and Devilish Insight: Rereading The Screwtape Letters Through a New Lens

This post contains personal reflections on The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis, including interpretations from both religious and secular viewpoints.

The Screwtape Letters is one of my favorite books and has been for a long time. I end up picking it up every few years to read again, as I seem to find something new to ponder each time. The first time I read it, I was quite religious, and the book felt like a lifeline, a reminder that faith can endure even through confusion, temptation, and suffering. I read it after my divorce, and it gave me insights into the pitfalls of life and how humans can be deceived so easily. Three years ago, I went through a faith crisis and now consider myself to be agnostic. I am open to spiritual ideas but uncertain about the existence or nature of a higher power. Religion still fascinates me, but from an academic viewpoint. Reading The Screwtape Letters after going through a faith crisis made me see the book in an entirely different light, and it was amazing.

C.S. Lewis portrays spiritual warfare through the eyes of a demon advising his nephew. The premises are clever and affirming to many. The books’ brilliance did not fade after my faith crisis; it shifted instead. Lewis’s insights into human psychology, self-deception, and moral complexity still resonate, but now I appreciate them as literary and philosophical reflections rather than spiritual truths.

What struck me most this time around was how well Lewis captured the subtle ways people rationalize their choices, drift from their values, and become strangers to themselves. The “devil” in this book became less of a literal being and more a metaphor for the internal voices that lead us away from authenticity, compassion, and clarity.

Reading the Screwtape Letters as both a Christian and a skeptic has been a rare and rewarding experience. It shows me that Lewis’s writing skills speak volumes across different world views. Whether you see it as a spiritual allegory or psychological satire, it is a work that invites reflection. I will return to this book every few years, like I have done in the past. I know next time I will find new meaning in the same old words that Lewis penned over 80 years ago.

Published: 1942
Last Read: September 19, 2024

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Faith, Fear and the Aftermath of 9/11: Religion in a Time of Crisis

The fourth week of November's material took us back to one of the most defining moments of modern history, the September 11 attacks, and explored how religion shaped both the violence and the response. The readings and documentary challenged me to think about the intersection of faith, fear, and ethics in times of crisis.

Andrew Sullivan's essay This is a Religious War argues that 9/11 was not just a political act but a theological one. The attackers framed their violence as a sacred duty, rooted in a radical interpretation of Islam. Sullivan warns that ignoring the religious dimension of terrorism oversimplifies the problem and blinds us to the ideological struggle at its core.

Helen Whitney's documentary Faith and Doubt at Ground Zero gave voice to the spiritual turmoil that followed the attacks. Survivors, first responders, and families wrestled with profound questions: where was God? How could faith survive such evil? Some found solace in prayer; others lost belief entirely. The film reminded me that violence doesn't just destroy lives, it shakes the foundations of meaning.

Khaled Abou El Fadl's essay The Place of Tolerance in Islam counters extremist narratives by reclaiming the Qur'an's emphasis on justice and compassion. He argues that intolerance stems from misreading scripture, not from Islam itself. This perspective is crucial because it shows that religious texts can be interpreted toward peace rather than violence.

Finally, John Esposito's chapter on Jihad clarified that the term means "struggle", not holy war. While extremists distort it to justify terror, many Muslims understand jihad as an inner moral effort. Esposito's work underscored how language and theology can be weaponized, or redeemed.

The key takeaway for me this week is how religion can be both a source of violence and a wellspring of resilience. After 9/11, faith communities faced a choice: retreat into fear or embrace tolerance and dialogue. That choice still matters today.

Sources:

Abou El Fadl, K. (2001, December 23). The place of tolerance in Islam. Boston Review.

Esposito, J. L. (2002). Jihad and the struggle for Islam. In Unholy war: Terror in the name of Islam (pp. 26–70). Oxford University Press.

Sullivan, A. (2001, October 7). This is a religious war. The New York Times Magazine.

Whitney, H. (Director). (2002). Faith and doubt at Ground Zero [Film]. PBS Frontline.

Written for PHIL 366G class UVU Fall 2025]
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Exam Reflections: Ethics, Peace, and the Power of Ideas

The third week of November marked a milestone in my Religion, Violence, and Peacebuilding class. I completed my second exam and earned a perfect score. The exam consisted of four short essay questions, each designed to test how well I've grasped the complex interplay between faith, ethics, and justice. Here's what I learned through answering them.

1. Abraham's Dilemma and Divine Command Ethics

The Akedah, the binding of Isaac, remains one of the most challenging stories in scripture. It forces us to ask: should morality depend on divine command? Robert Adams argues that obedience cannot be blind; divine commands must align with God's loving nature. This tension between faith and ethics is at the heart of Abraham's dilemma and continues to shape debates about moral responsibility in religion.

2. Just War Theory: Traditionalist vs. Revisionist

Matthew Gaudet's account of Just War Theory reveals a deep divide. Traditionalists defend the moral foundations of international law and the legitimacy of state authority, while revisionists challenge these assumptions, emphasizing individual rights and rejecting moral equality among combatants. This debate isn't just theoretical; it shapes how we think about justice in times of war.

3. Negative Peace vs. Positive Peace

Ira Chernus highlights Martin Luther King Jr.'s powerful distinction: negative peace is the absence of conflict, while positive peace is the presence of justice. King's civil rights activism embodies positive peace, using nonviolence not as passive resistance but as a transformative force for equality and dignity.

4. The Doctrine of Discovery and Vitoria's Response

The Doctrine of Discovery justified colonial conquest under the guise of Christian mission. Francisco de Vitoria challenged this, affirming indigenous sovereignty and rejecting religious differences as a cause for war. His ideas laid early foundations for human rights and international law.

This exam reminded me that religion is never just about belief; it shapes ethics, politics, and global history. From Abraham's dilemma to King's vision of justice, these questions push us to wrestle with the moral responsibilities of faith in a fractured world.

Sources:

Adams, R. M. (1999). Finite and infinite goods: A framework for ethics. Oxford University Press. (See chapter “Abraham’s Dilemma”).

Chernus, I. (2011). Religion and nonviolence in American history. In A. R. Murphy (Ed.), The Blackwell companion to religion and violence (pp. 538–567). Wiley-Blackwell.

Gaudet, M. J. (2011). Restoring peace: Toward a conversation between the just war and reconciliation traditions. Journal of the Society of Christian Ethics, 31(2), 37–55.

Vitoria, F. de. (1991). Political writings (A. Pagden & J. Lawrance, Eds.). Cambridge University Press. (Original lectures delivered 1538–1539).

[Written for PHIL 366G class UVU Fall 2025]
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Faith, Prophecy, and Politics: Religion's Role in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

The second week of November, our focus shifted to one of the most enduring and complex conflicts in modern history: Israel and Palestine. At first glance, the struggle seems primarily political, a dispute over land, sovereignty, and security. But as our readings and discussions revealed, religion is deeply woven into the fabric of this conflict, shaping identities, fueling passions, and influencing global actors.

Dov Waxman's chapters (Religion and the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict and The Basics) emphasize that while political and territorial issues dominate headlines, religious narratives often intensify the stakes. For many Jews, the land of Israel is not just a homeland, it's a covenantal promise. For many Muslims, Jerusalem is a sacred trust. These beliefs make compromise extraordinarily difficult because they frame the conflict in absolute, transcendent terms.

Heather Gregg's chapter on Zionism explores the battle to define Jewish nationhood and statehood. Zionism began as a political movement, but it drew heavily on religious symbolism and messianic hopes. This fusion of faith and nationalism created a powerful identity marker, one that continues to shape Israeli politics and Palestinian resistance.

Our weekly reading, Yaakov Ariel’s Doomsday in Jerusalem, adds another layer: global religious actors. Ariel shows how Christian messianic groups, especially evangelical premillennialists, view the rebuilding of the Jewish Temple as a sign of Christ’s return. These beliefs translate into political and financial support for Israel, but they also raise security concerns. Attempts to alter the Temple Mount, a site sacred to Jews, Muslims, and Christians, could ignite catastrophic violence. Ariel warns that theology, when tied to political action, can turn Jerusalem into a flashpoint for global conflict.

What I found most illuminating is how this conflict is not just about borders, it’s about competing sacred narratives. Land becomes holy ground, and political decisions carry eternal significance. That makes peacebuilding far more complex than diplomacy alone can handle. It requires addressing the religious visions that animate both sides, and the global actors who amplify them.

Sources:

Ariel, Y. (2000). Doomsday in Jerusalem? Christian messianic groups and the rebuilding of the Temple. Journal of Contemporary Religion, 15(1), 43–58.

Gregg, H. (2016). Zion: The battle to define the Jewish nation and state. In The path to salvation: Religious Zionism and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict (pp. 145–168). Georgetown University Press.

Waxman, D. (2013). Religion and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. In C. Seiple, D. Hoover, & P. Otis (Eds.), The Routledge handbook of religion and security (pp. 238–248). Routledge.

Waxman, D. (2019). The Israeli-Palestinian conflict: What everyone needs to know (Chapter 1: The Basics). Oxford University Press.

[Written for PHIL 366G class UVU Fall 2025]
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Is It Really About Religion? Understanding the Conflict in Northern Ireland

The first week of November, we turned our attention to Northern Ireland, a region where religion, politics, and identity collide in ways that defy simple explanations. At first glance, the decades-long conflict between Catholics and Protestants seems like a religious war. However, as our readings and class discussion revealed, the reality is far more complicated.

Patrick Grant's chapter, Northern Ireland, Religion and the Peace Process, explores how religion shaped both division and reconciliation. Churches were not neutral observers; they influenced political identities and, later, played roles in peacebuilding. Yet Grant also shows that faith communities often struggled to rise above entrenched loyalties.

Liam O'Dowd, in Does Religion Still Matter?, pushes us to question whether religion is truly the driving force behind the conflict. He argues that while religious labels matter, they often mask deeper issues, national identity, political power, and economic inequality. In other words, being Catholic or Protestant in Northern Ireland is as much about belonging to a cultural and political camp as it is about theology.

Claire Mitchell's chapter, Religious Ideology and Politics, adds another layer: religion provided language and symbols that reinforced political agendas. For unionists and loyalists, Protestant identity closely aligned with British sovereignty. For nationalists and republicans, Catholic identity intertwined with aspirations for Irish unity. These identities were not purely spiritual; they were social, economic, and historical.

In class, we debated whether the conflict was "really" religious. The consensus? Religion mattered, but not in isolation. It was a marker of identity, a way to draw boundaries between "us" and "them." Behind those boundaries lay struggles over land, governance, and equality. Nationalists versus unionists, republicans versus loyalists, the labels tell a story of competing visions for the future.

What struck me most is how religion can both divide and heal. The same faith traditions that fueled mistrust also inspired peace efforts, from grassroots dialogue to the Good Friday Agreement. This dual role reminds us that religion is never just a private belief system; it's woven into the fabric of society, for better or worse.

Northern Ireland teaches us that conflicts labeled "religious" often hide deeper fractures. Understanding those layers is essential if we hope to build peace that lasts.

Sources:

Grant, P. (2000). Northern Ireland, religion and the peace process. In H. Coward & G. S. Smith (Eds.), Religion and peacebuilding (pp. 245–262). Albany: State University of New York Press.

Mitchell, C. (2006). Religious ideology and politics. In Religion, identity and politics in Northern Ireland: Boundaries of belonging and belief (pp. 123–148).

O’Dowd, L. (2021). Does religion still matter? Comparative lessons from the ethno-national conflict in Northern Ireland. In N. N. Rouhana & N. Shalhoub-Kevorkian (Eds.), When politics are sacralized: Comparative perspectives on religious claims and nationalism (pp. 337–362). Cambridge University Press.

Written for PHIL 366G class UVU Fall 2025]
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Beyond Violence: Religion's Role in Nonviolent Movements

The last of October's readings and discussion challenged the way we think about religion and its relationship to peace and justice. Too often, religion is portrayed as a source of conflict, but the truth is far more complex-and hopeful.

Patrick Mason's article, Violent and Nonviolent Religious Militancy, asks us to rethink what "militancy" means. We usually associate the term with extremism and violence, but Mason argues that militancy is simply deep commitment to a cause. That commitment can be expressed through peace as powerfully as through war. The civil rights movement is a prime example: Martin Luther King Jr. was militant in his beliefs, but his weapon was nonviolence. Mason reminds us that ignoring these peaceful forms of militancy distorts the picture of religion's role in society.

Mason also introduces the concept of justpeace-peace that includes justice. It's not enough to stop violence; true peace requires fairness, dignity, and equality. This idea resonates with other readings, like Maria Pilar Aquino's chapter on religious peacebuilding, which emphasises that faith communities must confront harmful traditions and actively work towards reconciliation and justice. Ira Cherus' chapter on nonviolence in American history shows how religious convictions fueled movements like abolition, suffrage, and civil rights, proving that faith can be a force for liberation rather than oppression.

In class, we explored principles of nonviolence through figures like Gandhi, King, and the Dalai Lama, as well as traditions like Buddhism, Quakerism, and Anabaptism. These movements share a belief that peace begins within, through spiritual growth-and extends outward to transform society. King's distinction between negative peace (the absence of tension) and positive peace (the presence of justice) captures this perfectly. Nonviolence isn't passive; it's active resistance to injustice without resorting to harm.

What struck me most this week is how often we overlook the courage it takes to be nonviolent. It's easy to see violence as strength, but history shows that nonviolence requires ever greater resolve. Religious militancy, in Mason's sense, can be a radical commitment to peace-a willingness to suffer without striking back, to love in the face of hate.

If we want a world of justpeace, religious communities must lead the way by challenging violence within their own traditions and embodying the principles they preach. Religion can be a source of division, yes, but it can also be the heartbeat of movements that change the world without firing a shot.

Sources:

Aquino, M. P. (2011). Religious peacebuilding. In A. R. Murphy (Ed.), The Blackwell companion to religion and violence (pp. 568–593). Wiley-Blackwell.

Chernus, I. (2011). Religion and nonviolence in American history. In A. R. Murphy (Ed.), The Blackwell companion to religion and violence (pp. 538–567). Wiley-Blackwell.

Mason, P. Q. (2015). Violent and nonviolent religious militancy. In R. A. Scott & S. M. Kosslyn (Eds.), The Oxford handbook of religion, conflict, and peacebuilding (pp. 212–235). Oxford University Press.

[Written for PHIL 366G class UVU Fall 2025]
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