Strangers in the Earth

By Kathryn Miller Hollopeter

The Anabaptist contribution to the Reformation is often overlooked or misrepresented in historical accounts. In this historical novel, the author attempts to give an accurate account of life for these people in the late 17th century. They are brought to life in the characters of Karl and Johanna, who along with their brethren are willing to suffer untold hardships to be faithful, biblical Christians. Karl was born into a life of privilege but found no real satisfaction in what he was being taught. What was there about these calm believers that would make them give up lands, positions, and even life itself to follow their religious persuasion? Can he find real peace, and will he make the sacrifice required of him?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jun 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781512748116

Kathryn Miller Hollopeter

KATHRYN MILLER HOLLOPETER’S roots are in the Anabaptist tradition, her ancestry going back to the 1600s in Europe. She has a great interest in having their story passed on to future generations and has spent years researching and writing this historical novel. She Is also the author of Promises, an Amish Love Story, an authentic portrait of the Amish of Holmes County, Ohio 1910 which is available at Shepherd’s Crook Publishing, 7295 Wadsworth Rd. Medina, Ohio 44256 for $10.00 including shipping.

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PROLOGUE

I n 1521, Martin Luther met before the Imperial Diet at Worms, Germany, and answered, My conscience is bound by the Word of God: I cannot and will not recant anything. At that time, other priests and theologians throughout Europe were also studying the Scriptures and concluding that many practices of the Catholic Church were not biblical. Some of these priests and other students of the Bible carried their ideas of reform much farther than did Luther. Such men as Felix Manz, Conrad Grebel, Wilhelm Reublin and Simon Stumpf considered infant baptism as unavailing and not taught in Scripture.

Conrad Grebel of Zurich was the son of a rich patrician family, educated in the universities of Basel and Vienna. He was converted to the teaching of Anabaptism in 1522. In 1525, he administered the first baptism to an adult upon confession of faith. This was the start of believers’ baptism in this era of church history. It was also the beginning of the free church and of separation of church and state in which the rulers could not dictate to the individual how he had to worship. Toleration was foreign to the thought and spirit of the 16th century, and most governments sought religious uniformity. It would be many years before freedom came.

The Anabaptists sought to return to a Scriptural New Testament church. They followed neither the Roman Church nor any other state church whether Lutheran, Reformed or Calvinist. The state churches and governments so severely persecuted these rebaptizers that they were all but exterminated. Even so, their numbers increased greatly from time to time and spread over most of Europe. For not attending the state churches and for refusing to have their infants baptized, these peaceful people suffered beheadings, burning at the stake, imprisonment in dungeons, drownings and deportations. Some were buried alive, and some had their children taken from them.

These believers are barely mentioned in the recountings of the Reformation. Attempts are sometimes made to equate them with a small splinter group from Münster who resorted to violence. Many historians discredit them as only an inconsequential group of mainly simple peasants, when in reality they came as well from the educated middle classes and nobility. The mainstream were pacifists who turned the other cheek rather than fight for their rights. They had a simple faith in Jesus the Redeemer and in the Bible as God’s sovereign Word. We owe an immeasurable debt to them for the freedoms we enjoy and for the insights they brought, as well as their example of being faithful at all costs, even to death.

There was no hierarchy among them. They called themselves simply Brüder (brothers). In 1536, a Dutch priest named Menno Simons was converted and, denouncing Papacy, joined the Anabaptists. Even though hounded by the jager, he always managed to escape and taught believers’ groups throughout Germany, Holland and other parts of Europe. Because he came to be such a well-known figure among them, these groups became known as Mennists or Mennonites.

By the late 17th century, the horrible killings had abated, but their lands were still being confiscated, and they were still being imprisoned and tortured. About this time a preacher named Jacob Ammon became very popular, teaching in the different settlements. He preached a stricter way of life which caused a rift that was never fully reconciled. His followers became known as Amish. In the early 1700s, and into the 19th century these different groups began coming to America and settling the frontiers.

The characters in this historical novel are not actual figures in history, but are representative of people of that time and culture.

Some of the incidents in the story may seem too fantastic to be true. I assure you that they are based on actual stories that came out of this period, and were taken from accounts recorded in Martyrs’ Mirror or other historical writings. An example is of Johanna following the dog. The basis for this incident is an account of a Mrs. Blank included in the Jacob Hertzler family history printed in 1885.

I have tried to exercise faith and imagination in recreating the fictional characters, hoping they will do justice to the real ones who experienced these trials.

This story was written to inform, not to indict or bring accusation against any group of people.

KMH.

These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims on the earth.

Hebrews 11: 13

CHAPTER I

U p ahead, near the town, the two young travelers could see a large throng of people gathered in the marketplace. They urged their horses forward to the edge of the crowd. Over the heads of the people they saw a man, hands bound, step out of a wooden cart. His dark hair hung down over the young bony face, the flesh drawn tightly over his skeleton. He drew a tired breath as he gazed out of sunken eyes at the mob all around.

On a scaffold sat the priests, the judges and the bailiff. A large wooden stake had been driven into the ground and was surrounded by a huge pile of firewood. To this the man was rudely thrown and prodded by soldiers with swords and clubs. Near the front of the crowd stood a young woman who wept softly.

The noisy, jeering rabble suddenly grew silent as one of the priests rose and lifted his hands to speak. His words were addressed to the man about to be put to death. You have had many opportunities to avail yourself of mercy. Are you now willing to repent of your obstinacy and embrace our one and only true church? If you but recant and admit your sin in being rebaptized, you can avoid this horrible death.

The strong voice that answered belied the weakened condition of the prisoner. Sir, I can not deny my Lord, but rejoice that I can suffer with him. Today I will be in Paradise with him.

Several of the judges lost their composure for a moment, and sobbing was heard here and there in the crowd. The priest began to read the act of condemnation, reminding the guilty one of all his crimes. He and his wife had been rebaptized. They had not attended church, and had not had their children baptized. Therefore, he concluded, shouting, we pronounce you reprobate and assign you to hell!

At this the man fell to his knees and looking up to heaven sang a psalm of praise to God. Softly other voices here and there joined in. The bailiff commanded, Proceed! at which the menatarms seized the victim and dragged him to the executioner with the words, Discharge your office! The man stepped up meekly to where they placed him at the stake, chaining him to it. He continued praying and praising God as the faggots were brought, and the executioner set fire to the pile.

Night had fallen. The fire was soon leaping into the air, sparks flying up to the sky. Eerie shadows rose and fell against the stark trees. The two travelers sat still, aghast at the scene before them.

What do you make of it, Karl? asked Julian of his friend.

Karl, too stunned to speak, did not answer immediately. The blood had drained from his face. When he spoke, his voice trembled, barely audible. It’s a burning, Julian, a burning at the stake. I never thought to see such a spectacle in my life.

He wanted to leave, but something held him to the spot. Turning to a man at the edge of the crowd, he asked, What was the man’s crime?

Did you not hear the judge’s accusations? He is a heretic, a rebaptizer!

Another man standing nearby moved close to Karl to quietly give his evaluation. This was a good man. He helped the poor and did no harm to anyone, nor did he drink and carouse like many of our priests. That said, the man melted into the crowd.

In shock, Karl and Julian turned away from the scene and rode on a short distance to where they found an inn in which to spend the night.

The next morning, as the two students started on their way, Karl detected the hint of burned flesh mingled with the smell of smoke that still hung in the air. They had been on the way for three days, following the old Roman road out of Paris. Though the road lay evenly through the lowlands, the paving stones in the old Roman highway had become loose from centuries of horses’ hooves and wagon wheels, making travel less than easy.

After months in the musty corridors of the university, Karl thought the sky seemed brighter, the breeze fresher on this May morning. Cornflowers bloomed in straight blue clumps along the road, the river shimmered in the sunlight, and there was nothing here to stop one’s thoughts from running free as their horses clopped along,.

Karl Leonhart Von Rothenburg sat leisurely on his horse and solemnly pondered the questions that had plagued his conscience in recent months. He now posed some to his friend and fellow traveler, Julian.

Have you read any of Luther’s works?

Julian, half asleep, sat up. What? No! he exclaimed indignantly. Have you?

I’ve read a few articles. One was a tract given to me on the street one day, replied Karl. It talks about salvation coming through faith aside from the forms of the church.

You read it, kept it, and did not destroy it? asked Julian astounded, now fully awake. He detected a slight smile on his friend’s face. Karl was always the more daring one, venturing out after curfew hours, asking questions of the clerics no one else dared ask.

Of course I kept it.

I suppose you’ve read the new German Bible, too, Julian sneered. "You aren’t carrying any such verboten articles with you now, I hope!" he said with consternation.

Karl chose not to answer his second question. To the first he merely said, If I could get my hands on one, I would like to analyze for myself what it teaches.

You know the writings of the church fathers are accepted as final authority. Julian paused, but receiving no answer, continued, Karl, your life spreads out ahead of you with the promise of having whatever you want. Many a young man of our age would be elated at the prospects that lie before you. With your father, Baron Leopold’s wealth and influence, you might gain a high position in the imperial court, perhaps Bishop of Lorraine. You could travel and live a life of ease, if you chose. I can not imagine why you would jeopardize your promise of success, why you feel a need to trouble yourself over such things.

What are lands, riches and positions of honor if the heart doesn’t know peace? queried Karl.

I don’t understand this drivel you’re talking! Why this somber mood? You are always the first one with suggestions for frolic and entertainment, protested Julian. That burning has gotten your head befuddled.

Karl ignored his friend’s remarks. Where does one find peace, then? Have you found it in the church, my friend?

You must learn to accept things as they are, Karl. Leave it to others to work out the problems.

There is so much sham and fraud among the priests. You know this as well as I. How can one accept without question what we are taught?

What sham and fraud might you be speaking of? Julian challenged with some vehemence.

Have you not heard of the visitation in Bavaria a few years ago where the officials found women and children in the houses of the priests? queried Karl. They reported that most priests were drunkards and spent days and nights in the taverns. This has been found to be true in many other places.

Julian was thoughtful. I’m afraid what you say may be true, but there are those who are working to bring reform within the church. Have you thought of becoming a Jesuit, perhaps?

No, that would not be to my taste. I heard from one of the brothers in the monastery how the Jesuits in their zeal to purify the church have harassed and even put to death those who are no longer in our Holy Catholic Church. They have been particularly fierce in their persecution of a Swiss group who simply call themselves ‘brethren.’

Are they the ones who rebaptize adults who were baptized into the Holy Church as infants?

Yes, I have heard them called Anabaptists and was told they are a peaceful people who do not fight back to defend themselves.

Like the man who was burned yesterday?

I’m sure he was one of those, although perhaps not Swiss.

How is the situation now in your home region of Alsace? asked Julian.

As you know, our area around Strasbourg has had a history of tolerance in religious matters. We have been given a great degree of autonomy in this. The eastern part of our state in particular has been taken over by the followers of Calvin, but they, themselves, do not show any tolerance toward other groups.

They rode on in silence for a time, their horses’ hooves clipclopping on the stones.

It is time to stop and let the horses graze and drink, said Julian, hoping the previous subject would be dropped and forgotten.

You are right, my friend, and perhaps we shall have some luck at catching a few perch for own dinner, Karl said. But look. He pointed ahead to where the road turned along the course of the river. The figure of a man on a donkey could be seen. Shall we see who our fellow traveler might be?

As they approached, they could see that he was in a cleric’s garb. Maybe he’ll have the answers to some of your questions, laughed Julian.

Upon nearing, they saw that indeed the man was a Benedictine prior and, dismounting, bowed to him. We are on a journey since Easter from Paris to Strasbourg to attend the wedding of my cousin, volunteered Karl in introduction. If you are going far in that direction, we would crave the honor of your company, Father.

The prior got down stiffly from his donkey, his rotund body not much taller than his beast. Your offer is most welcome, sir. I am Prior Sebastian, he wheezed. The abbot has sent word for me to meet with him as we do each year. The house where I am prior is the farthest flung of all the subsidiaries under Hildebrand. I have gone many miles today. Curse these nasty stones! They turn the donkey’s feet and make slow going. He is getting old, and I am forced to walk at times. I must find lodging before night and will gladly accept your kind offer.

We were about to stop for a rest and perhaps a dinner of fish, if we are fortunate. We are honored to have you join us, answered Karl.

Julian had already gathered a pile of dead sticks and was attempting to start a fire on some dry grass with his tinder box.

You must be quite sure of making a catch, said Sebastian, twinkling at the prospect of fresh, fried fish but secretly questioning the ability of these two who were obviously of the noble class.

He needn’t have worried, however, for very soon the grass began smoldering and burst into flame as Julian fanned it with his hat. And standing in the stream, the young men soon each had a string of good-sized trout and perch. Presently they proceeded to clean and wrap the fish in the leaves of a wild grape that grew there and place them into the hot coals. The priest had drawn a handful of small turnips and potatoes from his sack and tucked them around the edge of the embers. In a short time the smell of roasting fish mingled with the springtime scents in the air. With the bread each man brought from his sack, they soon had a delicious feast, and having been refreshed, they saddled their mounts and were on their way again.

The company rode along in silence for a time, drowsy from the bounty they had just enjoyed. After some time, Karl, wishing to acquaint himself with the abbot’s leanings, reined his horse abreast of the cleric’s donkey and held himself back to his pace. Cautiously and politely he began,What do you think of the Treaty of Augsburg?

Psst, the older man sputtered, turning abruptly. It’s all the devil’s work!

Have you never read any of Luther’s postulations? Karl asked gently, trying not to anger the man.

Luther be damned! shouted the prior vehemently, goading his donkey to no avail.

Karl did not fear any retribution from the abbot since he was not under the abbey’s jurisdiction, being from Strasbourg which was under His uncle, Lord Rudolph, and the lords of Thienburg. They tended to be more lenient toward dissenters than the church’s dynasties. However, shocked by the prior’s change in demeanor, he decided to drop the matter for the time being, and let his horse lag back.

In late afternoon the travelers reached the territory that lay within the bounds of the Abbey at Toul, but there were still miles to go before they reached the community where the prior was going for his meeting with the Abbot. The gates of the town would be closed before they could reach it, and they agreed to find an inn in the village they were about to enter. Roving bands of thieves and ruffians were not unheard of after dark. The toll keeper took their money and assured them they would find a place to stay just around the bend.

The inn was a most welcome sight, a place of safety before the sun set. Close to the road it squatted like an old mother hen, its gray, weathered shingles and thatched roof coming nearly to the ground on two sides. The sign of the crown hung above the entrance.

Young Karl handed his horse to a hostler and shook the dust from his velvet cape. He carried with him a small wooden chest carved with a lion’s head in which he kept paper, quills, any letters he might be transporting and an extra change of clothing. A servant showed him and Julian to one of the upper rooms which were kept clean and tidy for the use of the nobility, and not as likely to be infested with vermin as the rooms below. Karl stashed his chest and went downstairs for supper.

The priest had taken his place at a table, and Karl joined him for a bowl of pottage and some bread to dip into it. Julian had gotten a seat near the kitchen where he could banter with the barmaids. Karl sipped his wine thoughtfully. The prior called for another mug of beer. As the setting sun shone through the narrow west window, it reflected on the cross that hung on the friar’s chest. He was still fuming from the earlier conversation on the road.

It seems you may be sympathetic with the reformer’s dogma, he growled under his breath.

Luther is only interpreting what he sees in the Holy Scriptures, argued Karl.

Fie on his interpretations! The Mother Church is the one who interprets for us. He took a long draft from his stein. You’d best be careful, young man. Methinks you also are flirting with heresy.

Not at all, Father. I am only seeking to know truth.

Perhaps you are one of those….Anabaptists! the prior said with a sneer.

"I am interested in hearing more about them, if you can enlighten me. I have heard that many have suffered tortures and cruel death because they would not recant. One would think that only a strong conviction of the truth should cause them to cling to