100 Books Like Peace Shall Destroy Many

I love to cook, and given the passion Mennonites have for potlucks, this list wouldn’t be complete without a favorite cookbook recommendation. The trouble is, which one? There are so many classics. I grew up with the worn and scribbled-on pages of The Mennonite Community Cookbook and later the More-with-Less World Community Cookbook, but ultimately decided on Menno-Nightcaps because, well, I warned you this list is eclectic, right? This book is loaded with not just yummy, practical drink recipes, but loads of Mennonite history. My own husband wooed me with stories of his ancestor who supplied George Washington’s troops with whiskey. How could I not love a book like this? Trust me, it’ll be fun and you’ll never view Mennonites in quite the same way.  

A fun, insightful, humorous revelation about a celebrated poet who returns to her conservative home and examines the people and ideas that shaped her. I identify with this book because I, too, was raised Mennonite. In addition. The protagonist of my book is a Mennonite.

Full confession here. I’m not a big romance reader and so I’m baffled by why Mennonite/Amish mystery romances are such a huge genre. Maybe it’s the perceived simplicity and innocence of the sect? Maybe they take people back to a time they never experienced themselves? That’s why I found Weaver-Zercher’s book helpful in clarifying why so many people love these books. Her writing is witty and engaging and kept me reading even though the subject itself is on the academic side. If you do want to explore the genre, the best source for a recommendation is the podcast Just Plain Wrong where three Mennonite librarians irreverently dissect Mennonite romances on a weekly basis.

If you’ve browsed my list this far, maybe you’re curious enough to peek into Mennonite theology, which truly is upside-down from the world we live in. Even though I’d been Mennonite all my life, this book, which I read decades ago, explained what radical Christian discipleship meant in a way I’d never fully understood. All those things that make the theology challenging—choosing pacifism, taking care of the least in society, living humbly instead of seeking power, turning the other cheek, forgiving when it’s easier to seek revenge—are also what make it transformative. If only living it were that easy.

This lovely memoir follows Mary, the daughter of Mennonite Pastors. Her recollections are comical and heartwarming as she deals with growing up in a Mennonite home in a non-Mennonite community. The creativity that goes with being raised with little means and living frugally makes Mary and her family rich beyond belief in adventure and storytelling.

Sometimes, research turns up unexpected and inconvenient truths. When Paraguayan anthropologist Canova researched Native voting patterns in Western Paraguay during the last several decades of the nation’s democratic opening, she found that Ayoreo women, from the latest Indigenous nation to be forced off their land, commonly exchanged sex for money or material goods with the local Mennonite setters. 

Economic and mission frontiers in the Chaco have changed gender roles, sexual practices, and frontier economies. While I learned about these practices back in 2002 during a trip to the Chaco, this brave exposé of frontier exploitation and changing cultures finally documents and brings to light new understandings of Indigenous agency amidst settler colonialism on internal Latin American frontiers. 

The collective memory of Mennonites during the Holocaust has long been mythologized or has remained unexamined. A recent renewal of interest from both the Mennonite community itself and scholars of the Holocaust has led to a number of conferences and publications. This collection of essays showcases the latest scholarship and paints a complex portrait of Mennonites in both western and eastern Europe during the Holocaust. The book highlights the many roles that Mennonites played, largely due to their proximity to the events of the Holocaust, including as neighbors, killers, enablers, witnesses, and rescuers. The contributors discuss Mennonite identity, theology, agency, and collective memory, all situating their stories in local, national, and European geopolitical contexts. 

I’ve read this book several times and I don’t believe I ever manage to get through it without shedding a few tears. Have tissues handy. A Mennonite family living in Ukraine in the 1920s has their village destroyed by Russian soldiers. The central character, ten-year-old Peter Neufeld, makes a decision to help his older brother Otto escape after he’s participated in counter-attacks, going against the family’s adherence to passive resistance. The Neufelds decide to leave a land of oppression and move to Canada where they will make an effort to assimilate rather than live apart as they have in Ukraine. It’s a journey filled with challenges and heartbreak, but always with the strength of love of family and humanity as a sustaining factor.

While the crimes committed against the Mennonite women in this story are the catalyst, I love this book because it shows the power of collective action when it is harnessed by women.

The women, who generally are so unworldly and governed by a paternalistic social structure, find their voice in the secret meeting they conduct in the hayloft. I find their debates fascinating.

In a modern context, it seems impossible that the women could forgive the injustice and violence done to them, but it is their faith that compels the possibility of such an outcome. Despite their illiteracy, the discussion is wise, even heated and fierce. It is their innate sense of democracy, rightness, and justice that brings me back to this book again and again.

Fred was a pilot. He also was an avid ufologist. In October 1978, on a short flight in a private plane from Melbourne to King Island in Australia, Fred has a conversation with air traffic control and claims to see a large aircraft — a UFO — flying around him… until it vanishes. 

That is Fred’s last conversation with anyone as both he and his plane disappear, never to be found. Was it an alien craft? Pilot error? Weather phenomenon?

There are no answers in Krasnostein’s chapters about Fred. But the story and her lyrical writing left me thinking about the nature of belief, the fascination we have with UFOs, and why we want our alien encounters to be real. Why do we want to believe?