by Chris Zimmerman
Penned in August 1925, Eberhard Arnold’s “First Law of Sannerz” is the oldest written rule of the Bruderhof. It has been practiced, with varying success, ever since – and without it, the community may well have succumbed to the many crises it has weathered over the past century. Here it is:
“There is no law but that of love. Love is joy in others. What, then, is anger at them? If we have joy in the presence of others, we will convey it with words of love. It follows that words of annoyance and concern about members of the community are unacceptable. This is why we can never allow talk against a brother or sister or their character traits, whether openly or by insinuation – under no circumstances behind their backs. Gossiping within one’s own family is no exception.
Without the commandment of silence, there is no loyalty and therefore no community. The only option, when someone’s weaknesses raise our hackles, is to speak to them directly, in the sense of performing a service of love.
An open word, directly addressed, deepens friendship and will not be taken amiss. Only when two people cannot find one another in this manner will it be necessary to draw in a third person whom both parties trust; and this will lead to a mutual understanding at the highest and deepest levels.”
Arnold drew inspiration from Matthew’s Gospel, where Jesus advises followers to solve quarrels “just between the two of you” (Matt. 18:15) and to forgive not just seven times but “seventy times seven” (Matt. 18:21). A century later, its importance remains largely uncontested. While communication methods have evolved (even in the Bruderhof, people text), two things remain constant: the destructive power of gossip, and our commitment to fighting it.
So does the “First Law” work? Not always. For one, any rule against gossip militates against human nature. Who can honestly say they’ve never talked smack? Second, it’s tempting to use “straight speaking in love” as a hammer – skipping the “in love” part altogether. Arnold himself warned, “Love without truth lies, truth without love kills.” Third, even if members try to obey the law, there are subtle ways to dodge it: the knowing frown, the sarcastic shrug, the eye roll, or the calculated comment. Then there’s social media, where even a sarcastic emoji can cause a viral storm. Aside from all this, there’s the passive consumption of gossip, which can be equally damaging.
Still, the repeated breaking of a rule doesn’t prove its uselessness. If anything, it highlights our need for it. The “First Law” persists because every failure to follow it reminds us of it again. Amid daily chatter, digital or in person, it remains a clear, steady compass for repairing and deepening relationships.
If you think I’m overstating the problem, you’re probably not alone. After all, venting feels good – especially when dealing with a difficult roommate, co-worker, or relative. And it can be useful: psychologists describe gossip as a social equalizer and a safety valve in power-imbalanced situations. Yet no one likes to be gossiped about. We all suspect that someone who speaks ill of others to us probably does the same about us, breeding anxiety, mistrust, resentment, and eventually, hatred.
No wonder scripture is filled with warnings like these: “The tongue has the power of life and death” (Prov. 18:20). “Without wood a fire goes out; without a gossip a quarrel dies down” (Prov. 26:20). “Set a guard over my mouth, Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips” (Ps. 141:3). James compared the tongue to a spark setting a “great forest” and a “whole course of one’s life” on fire (Jas. 3:5–6). And Jesus said, “What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them; but what comes out… that is what defiles them” (Matt. 15:11).
Centuries later, Francis of Assisi noted, “If you truly love your neighbor, it will make no difference whether he is sitting next to you or far away. Blest are you if you can refrain from saying anything behind his back that you could not say to his face, in love.”
A Hasidic tale illustrates the same idea. A man known for sowing division confesses to his rabbi, who instructs him to scatter feathers from a pillow. When the man returns, the rabbi says, “There is just one more step. Take the empty pillow case and gather all the feathers.” “That’s impossible,” the man protests. “The wind has already driven them far and wide.” “Precisely,” replies the rabbi. “But is it not the same with the evil rumors you have spread?”
Of course, gossip isn’t always rumor-mongering. Often, it’s factual and even well-intentioned. But even a “concern” can become destructive when voiced without the subject present to explain or defend himself. Besides, our motives are rarely as pure as we might think. We’re often more eager to share juicy tidbits than to love the person we’re talking about. Even hushed “professional” conversations among administrators, teachers, or pastors, though seemingly responsible, can weaken community trust. As Hermann Hesse once observed, “A judgment is sound only if it affirms. If it is negative, if it casts blame or finds fault, it will become false as soon as it is uttered, no matter how correct the observation behind it. More than half of what people say about others consists of such judgments.”
Back to practicing the “First Law” – it may be easier in a community like the Bruderhof, where mutual trust is foundational. In the broader world, speaking openly can come with real costs – lost jobs, reputational damage – even if you’re later praised as a whistleblower. Still, I would argue that the “First Law” holds universal value because it doesn’t just prohibit gossip, but offers a proactive path toward healing and connection. It doesn’t just discourage avoidance or condemnation, but promotes courageous honesty, and encourages us to face conflict in a way that leads to reconciliation.
What is that way? To quote Jesus, it is to “remove the beam from your own eye before trying to remove the speck from your brother’s” (Luke 6:41–42). The “First Law,” similarly, begins with self-examination, and talks about conveying what Arnold calls our “joy in others” – not just tolerating them or correcting them.
Yuval Lapide expresses this spirit beautifully: “Until you see the good in a person, you remain incapable of helping him. Whenever you speak ill of someone, you expose a measure of ugliness – in that person, in yourself, and in anyone who happens to be listening… Speak well of that person, and the inner goodness in him, in you, and in everyone involved will begin to shine, so that everything is illuminated.”
Engaging with an ongoing challenge like gossip reveals new insights each time we revisit it – and that’s especially true of texts that have stood the test of time, like Arnold’s “First Law.” In that spirit, here’s a recent re-translation undertaken with an eye to keeping it alive – and making it more accessible for a new generation:
“When it comes to laws, the only one that really counts is the law of love. Love is joy in others. It makes you happy to see them and be with them. (If you’re upset at them, the opposite will be true.) When you’re at peace with someone, your attitude will show it, and you won’t go around talking about them. That’s why we don’t allow gossip or back-biting in our house. Unless everyone commits to this, we’ll never be a real community, because people won’t trust one another.
Relationships are never perfect, but no matter the problem at hand, facing it head on is always the best way to figure it out and prevent a build-up of negativity. Try it: the next time someone gets on your nerves, be real with them. It’s the kindest thing to do.
Talking through a situation openly and honestly is rarely easy, but it’s always worth a try. In fact, it can strengthen and deepen a friendship. If you’re still not getting anywhere, ask a mutual friend (or anyone you both trust) for input. That way you can make peace and find a solution you’re both happy with – one that actually brings you together.”
Chris Zimmerman and his wife Bea are members of the Bruderhof and live at Harlem House in New York City.