At some point, the fascination with the American Civil War will end. There will be a time when the downpour of books will become a trickle. There will be a time when Abraham Lincoln, Robert E. Lee, and Ulysses S. Grant will not loom over the American historical imagination. At this future time, months will pass when no new Civil War monograph will be reviewed in The New York Times. Years will pass without films of Confederate troops flanking Union regiments or of Thomas “Stonewall” Jackson inspiring slaveholders to reject the political decisions of civil society. That moment is not now and, at least in the realm of religious history, thank goodness. In religion and culture, there is still much to be unearthed, examined, analyzed, critiqued, and challenged in the Civil War era. Mennonites, Amish, and the American Civil War is an excellent example of the kind of work that must be done to further our understanding of religion and the Civil War. By examining the varied wartime responses of Mennonites and Amish in Pennsylvania, Virginia, and the Midwest, Lehman and Nolt offer a detailed study of the relationships among religious beliefs and communities, patriotism and war, and theology and lived realities.

For Mennonites and Amish, the Civil War was a theological and social problem. How could they maintain their nonresistance or their two-world theologies—of primary allegiance in God's kingdom but active life in this world—with secession, military combat, conscription, partisan politics, taxation for the machinery of combat, and marauding armies demanding food, money, and help? How could they support the warring governments financially, while being opposed to war in general? How could they grow rich as wheat and corn prices rose, while those around them suffered and died? In the North, South, and Midwest, Mennonite and Amish communities struggled to work out these problems, sometimes in conversation with local governments, sometimes with state governments, and occasionally with the national governments. Lehman and Nolt show that the Amish and Mennonite were able to secure legal conscientious objection status that set precedents for future wars in the United States. Amish and Mennonite communities created a form of passive patriotic loyalty, where they supported their sections without actively partaking in combat. What is most impressive about Mennonites, Amish, and the American Civil War is the meticulous local research conducted by Lehman and Nolt. They not only sifted through more than twenty-five local newspapers in Virginia, Pennsylvania, Ohio, and Indiana but also put together ten detailed tables with indications of which Mennonites and Amish joined the war efforts, deserted, paid commutation fees, or hired substitutes.

Lehman and Nolt provide nothing new to historical understanding of the war in general. They follow the established terrain of Civil War scholarship—beginning with the sectional crisis in the 1850s and moving through the secession winter of 1860–1861. Lehman and Nolt describe how Mennonites and Amish responded to the calls for troops, the waxing and waning of Confederate chances, the invasions of Maryland and Pennsylvania by Lee in 1862 and 1863, and the Union move toward “total war” by Grant and Sherman in 1864. Civil War historians will find no new insights about the war itself. Most of the experiences of the Mennonite and Amish communities—the questions of religious, regional, or national loyalty, the challenges of mass death and destruction, and the uncertainties of emancipation and reconstruction—were shared by the vast majority of white Americans during the 1860s.

The study of religion and the Civil War is a fertile and rich field for study. There is much to be reaped and harvested or, to put it in northern factory parlance, manufactured and distributed. There are already some great books in the field with which to joust. James Moorhead's American Apocalypse (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1978) investigated how northern Baptists, Methodists, Presbyterians, and Congregationalists made sense of the war and how the combat influenced their millennial considerations. Albeit a slim volume, Gardiner Shattuck's A Shield and Hiding Place (Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 1987) examined the religious lives of combat soldiers in the North and the South and over the four years of war. Steven E. Woodworth's While God is Marching On (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 2001) extended many of Shattuck's findings with deeper research. Religion and the American Civil War (eds. Randall M. Miller, Harry S. Stout, and Charles Reagan Wilson [New York: Oxford University Press, 1998]) is an amazing collection of sixteen essays on everything from Lincoln's Second Inaugural Address to Catholic identities during the war. Mark Noll's The Civil War as a Theological Crisis (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006) studied exactly what the title declares. Most recently, Harry Stout's epic Upon the Altar of the Nation (New York: Viking, 2006) should provide at least a decade of scholarly combat over the relationships among the war, nationalism, violence, justice, and religious faith. It is a shame that most of this work is either racially segregated or includes a handful of African Americans (usually Frederick Douglass) reflecting on their experiences.

Lehman and Nolt add to the reconsideration of religion and the Civil War by focusing on two groups that did not jump on their sectional bandwagons. For Mennonites and Amish in the North and the South, their religious identities tended to conflict with the strong links between religion and patriotism discussed in Stout's Upon the Altar of the Nation. Mennonites, Amish, and the American Civil War is solid, if uninspiring, history. The prose is clear, not elegant. The research is meticulous and admirable, but not earthshattering. This book would be especially useful for those interested in Amish and Mennonite studies, graduate students focusing on religion and the Civil War, and students of nonresistance and pacifism.