Yoder, John H. Herald Press: Scottsdale, 1983.

I have a lot of free reading time here in Africa, so I thought I’d try my keyboard at a book review of one of my faves. I didn’t get around to reviewing it when I was negative two years old, but now, 25 years after its publication, I still feel this little puppy is worthy of discussion.

Okay, now on to the review:

When I first picked up its slim 111-pages, I was temped to negatively judge What Would You Do? by its hokey 80’s cover—that is, until I saw the words JOHN H. YODER emblazoned on the front. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Yoder, he is a pacifist theologian extraordinaire, a name that should strike fear into the heart of even the staunchest military supporter. To put it another way, he is one of those spiritual Ivory Tower men like C.S. Lewis and N.T. Wright—sometimes dead, sometimes alive (in this case dead)—upon whom I have an intellectual crush. To put it just one more way, he is the fourth member of the Trinity, at least for all of us who take Biblical Pacifism seriously (but not for those who take Trinitarian Theology seriously I suppose). And the argumentation of his pacifist stance in What Would You Do? is as legit as his Mennonite-style facial hair, which the picture on the back cover informs me is pretty darn legit.

Okay, enough author-extolling, now onto what the book actually says. Divided into three sections, the first is Yoder addressing the stock question: “What would you do if a violent person threatened to harm a loved one?” He delves into the options available—giving no less than seven outcomes of a violent attack rather than the usual two of murder or be murdered. What are those seven? I’m not telling. I will say that they don’t all end in the death of the victim, even though Yoder asserts that “death is not the greatest evil one can suffer” (27), but I’ll leave the remaining argumentation to my main man. So go read him.

In the process of giving the seven options, Yoder also questions the legitimacy of the “What would you do?” approach to start with—its emotional baggage, its assumptions, its nuances. Nuance example: did you know that Gandhi was ready “without embarrassment” to violently defend his immediate family or self, without seeing this as any compromise to the rejection of all organized violence in national causes (24)? Yeah, I didn’t know that either. But Yoder did. And that’s why I love him. (Sorry, the author-extolling isn’t stopping anytime soon.)

And then, like the good humble pacifist that he is, Yoder steps aside for the last two sections, allowing others to speak now so they don’t have to forever hold their peace. The middle section consists of short essays from pacifists like Leo Tolstoy and my favorite, folk singer Joan Baez, who sees the world not as 130-some nation-states but as “One tribe. Four billion members.” And like me (a person who moves to the other side of the world for a year because she believes we all have a responsibility to each other regardless of birthplace), Baez would agree that “killing any members of the family is a dumb idea. We think there are more decent and intelligent ways of settling differences. And man had better start investigating these other possibilities because if he doesn’t, then by mistake or by design he will probably kill off the whole damn race” (66).

Simplistic reasoning, you say? She goes on to address that complaint too.

The third section, entitled: “But Does It Really Work?” recounts true stories of pacifism in action. They’re all pretty good, but the last one is the clincher—a story of a missionary team in South America loving/hugging the soldiers who had just abducted the men in their group. It’s tear-jerkingly powerful, making you weep partly out of guilt that you could never be that good of a person/Christian and partly because your soul has just been deeply and profoundly touched when the soldier says, “I have fought many battles and killed many people . . . but this is the first time I even knew my enemy face to face, and I believe that if we knew each other, our guns would not be necessary” (111).

So when it comes down to it, you should read this book for three reasons: 1) You’ll get to hear from the man of my dreams and a few other interesting people too. 2) You probably won’t become a pacifist but you’ll understand better why Amy is. 3) It’ll be fun, in a nerdy theological sort of way. 4) Oh, and I forgot to mention this one earlier: it’s written in manageable, even colloquial language (unlike Yoder’s Politics of Jesus which is notoriously dense, possibly even denser than Yoder’s own facial hair).

There you have it. I’ve written my review, I’ve made my case, and I’ll leave you with one final all-important question—to read or not to read: what will you do?