In the summer of 1527, Ulrich Zwingli, leader of the Reformation in Zurich, Switzerland, published a book that harshly condemned the leaders of the emerging Anabaptist movement, many of whom had been his close companions only a few years earlier. 

Zwingli denounced their arrogance, refuted the Schleitheim Confession and referred to Conrad Grebel as “a ghost in hell . . . where he burns among the spirits.” 

But the main reason for executing Anabaptists, according to Zwingli, was that they had “seceded from the church.”  

That claim was ironic, since Zwingli’s own reforms had led to a split with the Catholic Church only a few years before. And differences with Martin Luther over the sacraments would soon lead to a decisive break with the Lutherans as well. 

As the Reformers quickly discovered, their appeal to Scripture alone — along with their challenge to papal authority and Catholic tradition — had opened a Pandora’s Box. The very principles they used to justify their own attempts to renew the church could also be turned against them by the Anabaptists and others. 

The reformers responded to this emerging crisis of authority in predictable ways. Already in 1525 Zwingli established the Prophezei — a kind of seminary where a new generation of clergy would be trained according to his understanding of scripture. A ritual of ordination gave this group exclusive authority to interpret scripture and perform the sacraments. 

Supporters of Martin Luther hammered out the Augsburg Confession in 1530 as the authoritative lens through which all Lutherans would need to interpret the Bible. 

And both Zwingli and Luther — along with later Reformers like John Calvin and Thomas Cranmer — appealed to political authorities to fund and administer the state churches that they were trying to establish and, when necessary, to eradicate heretics. 

None of these measures resolved all the conflicts within the Lutheran, Reformed or Anglican traditions. But they did set the boundaries of these new churches and clarified who had the authority to define orthodoxy.

THe early Anabaptists, however, mostly rejected these options for imposing church order. So the diversity that quickly emerged within the Anabaptist movement should not surprise us. Anabaptist groups in the 16th century shared the principle of believers baptism and a Christ-centered approach to reading the Bible. But beyond those basic convictions, they differed in understandings of the state, place of the sword, role of the Holy Spirit, economic sharing, marriage and divorce, oaths, the nature of the Incarnation and even the meaning of baptism. 

From the very beginning, the movement comprised a colorful variety of groups, each shaped by the nuances of political context, the background of its members and the personalities and convictions of its leaders.

To be sure, patterns emerged that clarified points of common ground. In some places, Anabaptist leaders met to counsel with each other on matters of faith and practice, sometimes formulating shared disciplines (Ordnungen). Hymnbooks and martyrologies could create a sense of a shared identity. Confessions of faith began to circulate.

In North America, a sense of shared identity and connection among Mennonites in the 20th century was shaped largely by the rise of church-related institutions — missions, publications, mutual aid, health, education, relief and service — that joined local congregations in a larger mission. But Mennonite denominational structures were never entirely clear about the relative authority of congregations, regional conferences (or districts) and the denominational center. Today, many of these institutions have developed identities largely independent of the congregations that formed them.

From a historical perspective, the recent divisions that have rippled through North American Mennonite churches are a reversion to a deeply embedded pattern. The past is never dead. A tradition born in division and suspicion of central authority has difficulty knowing how to respond to renewal movements who can justify their division by appealing to the example of the first Anabaptists.

Commemorations of Anabaptist beginnings are an opportunity to look back. We can understand a great deal about our present circumstances by looking to the past. Yet the church is always called to live forward — to ask what God is calling us to today. 

Must the past determine the future? Can we imagine renewal without division? Is the church ever bigger than the local congregation? Might faithfulness in the future include a deeper commitment to unity, even in the face of differences?