Recently in a class, we discussed the infamous Mennonite theologian John Howard Yoder. Our debate followed this central dilemma: What do we do with this defender of pacifism, a theologian incredibly foundational to the faiths of a whole generation of Mennonites, so influential that he is on syllabi at Yale? Should we still read him in theology classes? At first, I thought I didn’t care whether we read him or not. Then somebody said, “we should read him,” and I had an intense, visceral reaction that told me I did care. Very much.
If you are unfamiliar with him, Yoder is praised as a Mennonite theologian who explained pacifism in language that even secular academia could appreciate. However, Yoder’s personal life was far from praiseworthy. It was flat-out disgusting. Over the course of his career as a theologian and ethicist at Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary and Notre Dame, he became fascinated with questions of sexuality and began what he described as “experiments” on his “circle of sisters.” In clean language, his abuse ranged from verbal and physical harassment to nonconsensual sexual touch, forced nudity, and rape; but that doesn’t even convey the whole story. You should Google it. Do it now if you want to. The Weather Vane will wait.
So what do we do with this serial sexual predator? Can we still teach him in classes? Can we still read his book “The Politics of Jesus”?
Do Mennonites have to speak in hushed voices when we admit how foundational Yoder was to our theology? Should we just stop reading him? Can we all pretend he didn’t exist and read different theologians now?
The answer to those questions is yes. And no.
Don’t erase him. Actually, it is better to say don’t erase Her, or, don’t erase the 100+ Hers that he abused over his lifetime. Not reading him, not teaching him, wiping him from collective Mennonite memory, also wipes away the stories of the women who survived him. The Mennonite Church doesn’t need any help pretending sexual abuse doesn’t exist. They’re doing a perfectly fine job of that already.
So teach him. Assign him for homework, and talk about him in classes. Just don’t do it the way we’ve been doing it for the past 50 years.
Assign him in a class about sexual abuse in the Mennonite community, or about sexual abuse in the Church in general. Well, first, create a class about sexual abuse in the Mennonite community, because we all need to understand the extent of the harm and why it’s so prevalent in order to do something about it, and then assign him in that class. Assign him in a psychology class, or in a peacebuilding class, and discuss the power he had in his community and what that means for the women he abused. Talk about how somebody who championed pacifism in public could perpetrate such violence in his personal relationships. And yes, we need to read him in classes on Mennonite history, because we need to wrestle with the fact that we as a community glorified a sexual predator and actively silenced the voices of the hurting in order to protect his career. We need to struggle to understand that legacy and the mindset that allowed us to do that, and we need to practice interrogating his writing through a different lens.
That being said, don’t teach him in classes on modern Mennonite theology or on peace. I understand that his writings were foundational for previous generations, but they don’t need to be for mine. He may have been the first theologian to defend pacifism—this is debatable—but he certainly wasn’t the last. There are plenty of theologians today, Mennonite and otherwise, bringing conversations about pacifism and Jesus’ revolutionary politics into the 21st century. Teach them instead.
Besides, Mennonites in the U.S. don’t need a defender of pacifism anymore. Now we need to struggle with what pacifism looks like in the global Mennonite Church and beyond. We need to investigate how our United States privilege here affects our understanding of Christian pacifism and vice versa. Wrestle with that in your theology courses. Engage with the writings of influential women and men from places and spaces of oppression who are actually affected by this debate. Center their voices and their understandings of Jesus’ revolution.
People will argue, “But he’s a big deal! I mean, he’s taught at Yale!” Yeah, but why are we celebrating that?
Finally, this debate certainly isn’t unique to Mennonites. This is a conversation happening all over the U.S. right now. Can I still watch Harvey Weinstein movies? Can I still enjoy a Kevin Spacey performance? Do I have to stop listening to Thriller?
Recently, on Saturday Night Live, Pete Davidson talked about his response as a fan of R. Kelly’s music. He suggests that “the rule should be you can appreciate their work, but only if you admit what they did …because if it’s that important to you, at least own it.”
Crucially, he adds to that rule that we should donate money to an organization that helps sexual assault survivors for every song we listen to, movie we watch, comedy sketch we laugh at, or product we buy created by a sexual predator. Let’s be honest, Pete Davidson should probably not be our role model for much in life, and there were definitely things he said in this sketch that I don’t agree with, but I think these sound like good rules.
If you really want to read one of Yoder’s books, go ahead. But every time you pick up that book—or write his name in your syllabus— say aloud the things he’s done and the things we as a church didn’t do to stop it. If we can’t face that, then we have no business preaching and teaching his theology. And if we don’t follow up with action to support survivors now, we have no business talking about Jesus’ revolution.