Informal Sunday - It's Bring Your Lawn Chair Sunday
Flowers on the Grounds
Adult FMCers in the "Slowest" Race Contest
Church in the Round
Working with the Youth
A welcoming faith community committed to Making peace, Seeking justice, Serving as the hands, heart and voice of Christ
First Mennonite Church seeks to be a welcoming community to all who come our way, and as one expression of our hospitality we are a member of the Supportive Communities Network, a network of Mennonite and Brethren congregations that support full inclusion of LGBT people in the life of the church.
We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain.
Help each other bear your burdens! In this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.
We resonate with the image of this depression-era young mother who was looking for hope. She was destitute; she was looking for work, how could she feed her many children, and what will tomorrow bring?
In this COVID-19 time we too are looking for hope. We are looking for hope that our friends and family will be well. We are looking for hope that those most needy will be comforted. We are grateful for all the good deeds performed by our friends and neighbors; kindness is indeed contagious; and we are looking for a solution for this mysterious virus sweeping the world; we are looking for hope that the future will be bright.
It is curious that this challenge comes as we celebrate 100 years of MCC, whose slogan is to serve “In the name of Christ.” There has been a rather extensive discussion among the MennoExpressions board and writers how to structure this edition: some said to postpone it, some said it did not matter to them, some said to publish a special issue, and some said it would be best to have an opening statement, then proceed as planned.
And it was pointed out that during this self-imposed quarantine it will be good to have some celebratory reading. We will overcome!
In January 1991 (as the Gulf War had just started), I spent four months volunteering at the Leprosy Colony KM 81 in Paraguay. My great grandparents had volunteered there in the early 1950s. I had just graduated from Goshen College with a Biology degree, and had worked short term jobs in landscaping and in a laboratory. I was still figuring out next steps toward a career. Through family and friend connections, my friend Maria and I embarked on a four month service term in Paraguay. I volunteered at the Leprosy Colony which was 81 kilometers from the capital city (hence the name KM 81). Maria volunteered in a daycare (“Guardaria”) in Asuncion.
The Leprosy Colony is a compound staffed by volunteer doctors, nurses, pharmacists, a physical therapist, prosthetist and others. Local people travel hours for health care needs. There is a hospital onsite for those needing acute medical attention. There is also a clinic where people come for basic health care needs and medications. The Physical Therapist, Annie (a volunteer from Germany) would educate patients on the importance of daily foot inspection for any injuries or skin issues. Leprosy, while mostly eradicated in the US – but not in Paraguay – is a highly contagious disease. It damages nerve endings and decreases blood flow (similar to diabetes) which can also delay or prevent healing. If patients with leprosy have a small foot wound, the patient will not feel pain. Patients walk on a small wound unknowingly for weeks until a severe foot wound develops. Often patients need surgeries, and have resulting misshapen feet, or even amputations. The prosthetist assists in creating custom made shoes, or new prosthetic limbs as needed.
There were and still are many young volunteers at the Leprosy Colony from the surrounding Mennonite Colonies (i.e. Fernheim, Loma Plata, Bergtal), as well as from abroad. I spent my time with the young volunteers rotating between the kitchen, laundry room and general cleaning. Many of the volunteers were German Mennonites speaking Low German. I had studied High German throughout college, but this was different than the Low German spoken here. The patients were often native Paraguayans speaking Spanish. There are also many Indigenous people in Paraguay speaking Guarani. I learned that Paraguay is a melting pot of cultures and languages, making communication challenging at times.
On one “field trip” I was able to travel with a doctor to the outlying villages. Here the doctor did follow up visits with patients who were unable to travel to the clinic. He even took lab samples to check for the status of various diseases right there in their homes. It was a mobile lab!
Despite my language barrier, I made friends and connections with other volunteers. On weekends off, I traveled by bus to Asunción to be with my friend Maria, and visit my Opa and Oma.
While adjusting to the language and cultural differences was challenging, this was a very rich four months away. This is one of the life experiences that helped to steer me into the path of Physical Therapy.
When I was in college, I knew that I wanted to do a year-long program after graduation to get experience in digital media, my field of study. More importantly, I realized that I have been given so many opportunities and blessings in my life, and it was time to start giving back.
Initially, I looked into programs within the US, because the idea of serving internationally for an entire year seemed like something only other, braver, more confident people did, not me! But when I heard that Mennonite Central Committee‘s one year service program for young adults (SALT) had a social media position open in Bangladesh with an organization called Basha, I was intrigued. When I learned that Basha works with women survivors of trafficking, I was convinced. Using my digital media skills to serve an important cause was clearly an opportunity I was meant to take. Ten months later, and I can say it was absolutely the right decision!
My role includes social media, filming, photography, and graphic design, and matching saris for the kanthas! I love my work at Basha, but living in Dhaka has not been easy. With an estimated population of 20 million, Dhaka was a huge shock coming from a small town of 2,000! Going through culture shock is a difficult and ongoing process, but I have surprised myself in my ability to be flexible and to adapt to circumstances. Now the thought of navigating the city alone by bus or rickshaw seems normal rather than terrifying!
During my time in Bangladesh, I have learned that I can make do with so much less. I don’t need more than 7 sets of clothing. I don’t need air conditioning, even when it is 100 degrees for weeks. I don’t need most of the “necessary” things we spend money on in the US. I have also found what I do need. I need my family. I need friends. I need people to worship with each week. I need a time and a place to exercise. I need to see the sky.
One of the biggest challenges I’ve had is trying to understand the lives of the women who work at Basha. Their lives have been different from mine in every possible way, full of poverty, exploitation, and indescribable trauma that I have never experienced in my sheltered, privileged upbringing. I have no reference to be able to understand their anger and their pain. I don’t know if I can say that I’ve overcome this challenge, but perhaps I have gotten a little better at having an attitude of compassion rather than one of judgment.
Young people, if you’re considering volunteering internationally, DO IT! Even if you have doubts, concerns, or fears. You don’t have to be particularly brave or qualified. Service isn’t about changing the world but about being changed yourself by joining the work that is already being done in the place you serve. It will be one of the hardest things you will ever do and one of the best things as well.
When I go home, I will tell the Basha story to everyone I can. I will share the stories of women who have gone through so much hardship, yet have changed their lives with little more than a bit of education and a safe place to work. I will share about the children who would have grown up to be exploited themselves, but are now thriving and planning for bright futures. I will share about these beautiful kantha blankets and the women who are keeping their traditional craft alive and pulling themselves out of poverty at the same time.
I made my first trip to Cuba in April 2012 with a group from Witness for Peace (WFP). Soon after that visit, I began organizing People to People trips there under the auspices of the Sarasota Chapter of MEDA. People to People trips provide opportunities for travelers to have direct contact with Cuban people and provide a window to their everyday life.
The MEDA Sarasota chapter had particular interest in supporting entrepreneurial activities which might be emerging in Cuba in a changing economic landscape. As a communist/socialist country, Cuba is not known for its support of entrepreneurial pursuits, and yet there were many people who were operating small businesses in challenging environments.
In 2016, we met two women who had just launched a sewing cooperative. The leader, Alina, a domestic abuse survivor, shared her vision. If she could teach other survivors to sew, they could gain economic independence, and the cooperative members could provide emotional support for each other. As I listened to Alina speak, I was moved by her passion, but I had to wonder how she could accomplish this with a couple old sewing machines, a few accessories, and working out of a small screened front porch. She had one cloth bag for sale, which we bought. As we left, we said, “When we come back next time, have more things for us to buy.”
Returning a few months later with our group, the sewing cooperative was prepared for us. There were now four members. They had Christmas ornaments, clothing and small stuffed toys for sales. Our group purchased some items, but most of their customers were people from the community.
On our last trip in November 2019, the cooperative had 16 members and included a woman with Down’s Syndrome and a man who was deaf. The cooperative was now co-ed. They had made enough profit to purchase their own space, a third-floor room that held numerous sewing machines and other accessories needed for their business. They were clearly a sustainable organization.
A late update. On March 30th, we received a message from Alina. In November, someone from our group had donated squares of cloth; probably quilt patches, that the women didn’t know what to make with them. Here is her message. “Without realizing it, we were preparing for this time. We designed a really useful mask with three layers of cotton fabric and then the colorful fabric on the outside of the masks. We donate the masks to people who can’t afford to buy them and sell the others. It is so wonderful to provide employment to more women who are making masks, thanks for all the fabric.”
One of the greatest satisfactions that I’ve had in my time in Cuba is to see this group of women, under the leadership of a visionary, succeed and thrive. In our last time together, Alina shared that her Christian faith compelled her to help people who are in need, and they plan to continue to grow.
Packed trains, crowded sidewalks, unfamiliar smells, bewildering signs and a perplexing language that sounded completely unlike the vocabulary and grammar lessons that we so diligently studied before our arrival. Here we were in Tokyo, Japan – a city and country unlike any in our experience.
Married Goshen College graduates, Wade and I had enjoyed several jobs each, but both felt a tug toward doing some type of service. After exploring a variety of options, we surprised ourselves and our families when we settled on working as support personnel for JEM, a small mission organization centered on providing Bible training for church pastors and teachers in Niigata prefecture, on the west coast of Japan, a country where less than one percent of the residents identify as Christians. Wade focused on photography and creating slide shows while I composed newsletters and other communication as needed by the organization. Preparing for this venture included three months of language and cultural training in Washington DC before finally arriving in Kashiwazaki, our hometown for two amazing years. In that time, aside from one preplanned phone call, staying in touch with family and friends in the US was through blue aerogramme letters and occasional photographs.
Adjusting to an ancient culture vastly different from our rural Ohio setting provided exciting as well as daunting experiences that broadened our Mennonite horizons, expanded our spiritual growth, and taught us more than we could imagine about working together harmoniously as a couple and as part of a caring team of diverse coworkers. Several have remained special friends for fifty years. The most consequential event during our time in Japan was welcoming our dear baby daughter Leah, born on the Emperor’s birthday!
Looking back after many years, we can still see life changing lessons and habits from our time of service. Some are simple, like never wearing shoes in the house, eating Asian food with chopsticks, or feeling the need for a slight bow when greeting or thanking someone. These actions became so much a part of our everyday life that we almost forget their origin.
We remember gracious manners that permeate the culture, and understand the value of adopting behaviors that benefit the community, rather than insisting on personal freedom to do as we please.
Respect for history, tradition and beauty is so ingrained, that Japan designates artists, and others who have contributed to society as Living National Treasures. I think this focus has inspired us to appreciate the ever-changing beauty in nature and also to encourage the talents and skills of family and friends in their ventures. I could also wax on and on about the techniques and delights of arranging flowers that are so esteemed in Japan!
We remain grateful for the Lord’s leading and protection that we felt in so many ways. Wise leaders supported us and became “family” to fill in when ours were far away. Singing and worshipping together in varied settings brought encouragement. Our lives have been immeasurably enriched through the time we spent in the Land of the Rising Sun, and the joy lingers in myriad ways.
Annabella Habegger is an artist living and working in Indianapolis. She graduated from IU Bloomington with a BFA in Digital Art. She enjoys exploring all types of media, often combining drawing with other materials.
“In the rush to return to normal, use this time to consider which parts of normal are worth rushing back to.”
Did you watch The Wizard of Oz as a kid? There’s this moment when Dorothy first sets foot into the magical Land of Oz. Suddenly, the black and white film transitions to a world of color—everything changes. Sights, sounds, shadows—nothing is left untouched by the change into this sunburst world. Our entire perspective as viewers is altered as everything comes into hyperfocus.
I have had this moment on instant-replay in my head as the world has shifted underneath our feet these past few weeks. We, too, have had an entire shift of perspective. We, too, are entering unknown territory. For us, this journey has not been a benign, cotton candy experience. This journey, which is not yet over, has been painful, anxiety-producing, and downright scary. But there has also been beauty.
As nature has seemingly hit the “pause button” and lives have been disrupted and forced to slow down—we’re beginning to see things differently. Our family has begun to treasure a daily walk, waving to neighbors from a safe distance, taking the time to listen to the birds chatter, and simply experiencing one another in new ways. I’ve begun baking homemade bread again, and the feel of my hands kneading the dough is as sacred as the beads of my rosary I used to clasp as a child. We have also begun to “see” people in our personal circles who we took for granted—mail carriers, garbage collectors, cashiers, people bagging our groceries, environmental service workers, the list goes on and on. These people are now, quite literally, heroes during this crisis—keeping civilization going–and last week we didn’t even SEE them!
Prior to the COVID crisis, I was already working through some anxiety issues and seeing an amazing therapist. We have moved our sessions to conference calls in light of recent events. This week I was sharing with her how my anxiety has almost vanished—stressors that kept me up at night no longer have any relevance (deadlines, my boss’s approval, the hell that is Microsoft Excel.). It’s really got me thinking about the future and what patterns/choices we invite into our lives as we move forward. I pray that for those of us who have the privilege of doing so, we lean into the opportunity of evaluating our life choices and honestly “see” ourselves for, quite possibly, the first time in a looooong time. Maybe this looks like mindfulness practices—meditation, journaling, or yoga. Maybe it looks like having hard conversations with our life partner or family. Whatever it is, may we be brave enough to reflect, heal, and explore new ways of being.
We are excited to share that we are again trying a new way of gathering together via the internet for this Sunday’s morning worship service. At 9:30 AM, we will worship via video conference call so we can see and hear each other as we worship together. Please check your email for the invitation.
The Lord said to Samuel, “How long will you grieve over Saul? I have rejected him from being king over Israel. Fill your horn with oil and set out; I will send you to Jesse the Bethlehemite, for I have provided for myself a king among his sons.” Samuel said, “How can I go? If Saul hears of it, he will kill me.” And the Lord said, “Take a heifer with you, and say, ‘I have come to sacrifice to the Lord.’ Invite Jesse to the sacrifice, and I will show you what you shall do; and you shall anoint for me the one whom I name to you.” Samuel did what the Lord commanded, and came to Bethlehem. The elders of the city came to meet him trembling, and said, “Do you come peaceably?” He said, “Peaceably; I have come to sacrifice to the Lord; sanctify yourselves and come with me to the sacrifice.” And he sanctified Jesse and his sons and invited them to the sacrifice.
When they came, he looked on Eliab and thought, “Surely the Lord’s anointed is now before the Lord.” But the Lord said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him; for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” Then Jesse called Abinadab, and made him pass before Samuel. He said, “Neither has the Lord chosen this one.” Then Jesse made Shammah pass by. And he said, “Neither has the Lord chosen this one.” Jesse made seven of his sons pass before Samuel, and Samuel said to Jesse, “The Lord has not chosen any of these.” Samuel said to Jesse, “Are all your sons here?” And he said, “There remains yet the youngest, but he is keeping the sheep.” And Samuel said to Jesse, “Send and bring him; for we will not sit down until he comes here.” He sent and brought him in. Now he was ruddy, and had beautiful eyes, and was handsome. The Lord said, “Rise and anoint him; for this is the one.” Then Samuel took the horn of oil, and anointed him in the presence of his brothers; and the spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward. Samuel then set out and went to Ramah.
John 9 (NRSV)
As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.” They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”
They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.” Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath.” But others said, “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, “What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” He said, “He is a prophet.”
The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?” His parents answered, “We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.”
So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, “Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.” He answered, “I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” They said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” He answered them, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” Then they reviled him, saying, “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.” The man answered, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” They answered him, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.
Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him. Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.
Exodus 3:1-10 (NRSV)
Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.” When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” Then he said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” He said further, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.
Then the Lord said, “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.”
Now when Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard, “Jesus is making and baptizing more disciples than John” —although it was not Jesus himself but his disciples who baptized— he left Judea and started back to Galilee. But he had to go through Samaria. So he came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon. A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.” The woman said to him, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?” Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.”
“It is in giving that we receive” – St Francis of Assisi
“They who lose their lives shall find them” – Jesus of Nazareth
While much of the MCC centenary celebration is focused on the untold millions who were the fortunate recipients of MCC, this article concentrates on the benefits that accrued to the MCC and it’s constituency.
MCC helped the constituency pushing back old boundaries
In 1920 the North American Mennonite constituency consisted mostly of persons of Europeans ancestry. They were hard working, God-fearing people, living mostly in rural enclaves. Many were first or second generation immigrants. Their world was small and simple. On Sundays, these large families gathered in modest but functional church buildings where many still sang from German hymnals and were ministered to by devout but untrained preachers.
MCC was essentially in recess in the decade of the 1930s. It had neither a permanent staff nor a headquarters. The office moved from Scottdale, PA, to Akron, PA, in 1935 when Orie O. Miller was named Executive Secretary.
As the decade of the 30s was coming to a close, Mennonites began to feel threatened by war clouds in Europe that culminated in WW II. That was a watershed moment. To populate the armies needed to fight this two-front war, the Selective Service System was brought into being. It’s long arm reached into these rural communities and found draft age men who refused to participate in the military. They were assigned to camps strategically scattered across Canada and the United States in a program known as Civilian Public Service, administered by MCC.
Following WWII, and MCC’s robust feeding and resettlement programs, MCC was catapulted into an internationally known organization.
The Mennonite map was redrawn. In the next decade the historic Mennonite “capitals,” like Mountain Lake, MN; Marion, SD; Meade, KS; as well as areas in Canada such as Coaldale, Alberta and Swift Current, Sask, etc, became hollowed-out. Concurrently, the urban option ushered in church plants in cities such as Indianapolis, IN; Topeka, KS; Denver, CO; Cincinnati, OH and New York City.
So it was that, completely unintended, but guided by God’s invisible hand, MCC participated in reshaping and modernizing the North American Anabaptist world.
MCC’s role in inter Mennonite cooperation
Yet another unintended consequence of MCC’s sudden appearance was its role in inter Mennonite relationships. North American Mennonites have never been one homogeneous body. The Swiss migration began already in the late 1600s, followed 150 years later by an influx from Russia. Within Russia they came from many different villages. The Mountain Lake, MN, community, for example, came from more than 50 Russian villages. They eventually organized themselves into 9 semi independent congregations representing 3 conferences.
Both streams, upon arriving on these shores, were attracted to good land in the Midwest expanse, but there was little or no coordination between the two bodies. In some cases, they did not even know that the other existed.
In 1940 their quiet way of life was interrupted by the draft to man the Army to fight WW II. There was no provision to exempt conscientious objectors from participation in the military. The scattered Mennonite communities had no mechanism through which to make a united appeal. In a search for options, someone recalled that Central Committee through which they had helped their brothers and sisters suffering in Russia. So it was that through MCC, joined by the Quakers and the Church of the Brethren, the Civilian Public Service was brought into existence. Administered by MCC, more than 5,000 men served their alternate service through this program.
The miracle of MCC is that this scattered, diverse constituency became acquainted with each other while serving side-by-side in MCC in behalf of a needy world. It set the stage for more inter Mennonite activity to follow.
MCC’s role in educating its constituency
William T. Snyder, MCC’s longest serving Executive Secretary, was fond of saying, “MCC is not a check writing organization. Its first medium is not money; it is workers.” This philosophy made MCC programs lean on budget and rich in personnel. At its peak MCC had more than 550 workers on assignment, most of them drawn from its constituency. After serving 2-or 3-year terms, this stream of MCC alumni enriched the congregations to which they returned.
It is a partial answers to the question outsiders ask, “How is that a constituency so urbane has become so global in its reach and awareness?”
Thus it was that MCC service, along with other influences, played a major role in helping the historically insular North American Mennonite churches to make the transition to the 21st century, while adhering to its Anabaptist roots.
Ah yes, Jesus and St. Francis had it right. By sharing generously of treasure and talent, by opening itself to the needs of a hurting world, God has seen fit to use MCC to help the Mennonite Church reach out to a needy world while itself being born again. God be praised.
I was asked to write a reflection on service. It is proving one of my most difficult assignments. The more I think about it, the more questions arrive. Who is serving whom? Is the power differential poisoning the effort? Is this the right approach? Service in a church context vs service in a Christian context vs service in a secular context? Military service? Public service? My experiences of various service have raised these questions and more.
I once “served” on a church-based Appalachian housing project. A team of middle class mostly professionals from Indianapolis went to somewhere in the economically and educationally trampled Appalachian area and spent a week building and repairing houses. We had quite a bit interaction with local folks. We had a good time working in fair weather. It was kind of a lark. I wonder what the local folks thought and felt about the invasion of do gooders? There were many teams through there that summer.
Service often is pretty much like work in any organization. Sometimes we find ourselves working on a seriously flawed project or one with predictable bad outcomes – and we have to ask “What happens if I just walk away from this? Will that make it any better or worse?
Volunteering on Habitat projects, I found myself working on houses for people with disabilities in a setting where several such houses were clustered together creating a small disability ghetto in an impoverished section of the community. The right thing to do? Folks needed the housing. The Habitat organization was unwittingly exercising a kind power over those they were serving by creating a limited (probably unavoidable) choice of neighborhood.
Sometimes I find myself working with leadership that have the same flaws as we find in the everyday work environment, flaws that make the situation unpleasant and may have a negative effect on the project or the people served. Well, what did I expect? Sometimes I find myself questioning the motives of fellow volunteers. That is usually time for me to check my own.
A “service” project involved writing a solid grant proposal for a volunteer organization that insisted on presenting it to a funder who had rejected a previous proposal. The funder told them not to come back until they met certain conditions that the applicant refused to meet. The organization was a basically good one and we wrote a proposal that would serve well when they used it properly.
I will soon be involved in aiding a community of immigrant agricultural workers. I struggle with this. How do I show/live out my respect for them in this situation? I come into their community from across barriers of language and money. The food and clothing we bring are banners of those barriers. The situation unavoidably creates a social power dynamic with the “server” having greater power than the “served.” When I served in a kitchen for disadvantaged folks, I answered that question by simply saying to myself “They’re hungry. I fill the plate. They eat. We leave and get on with our lives. It is not great, but they are less hungry today.”
Maybe that is the approach I should take in Immokalee. If we deliver to the center quietly, leave the truckloads of goods and go, we will have done a service. It may be the best we can do this day. On the other hand, what if we get into extensive interactions with the folks we seek to serve? Do you see the paradox? How do we assure dignity for those served without assuming the power that cancels that dignity?
Which brings me to public service, civil, military, political. I have worked in civil and military service, finding no one who considered themselves servants. Most are just trying to do the best they can to go forward in life and make a living and see some good happen in the world where the work. They serve without obeisance but with hope for positive change in the face of great frustration. When people spoke to me of the good work I was doing in civil service, I always replied that I loved my work but could not do it if I did not get paid, always trying to maintain perspective.
I have written previously in MennoExpressions about military service. I only say here that throughout the history of the “civilized” world, the young and strong are conscripted (openly or subtly) to carry out war. The winning sides have momentary celebrations of the returning “heroes” followed by various means of making them disappear. Underneath it all I suspect we are subconsciously afraid of the people we have required to do our killing.
In political service there has always been the question of who is serving whom. Sometimes we like the answer. Sometimes not.
Finally, the most important service, personal. Here is where all the questions and ambiguities become most incarnate, most glorious and most painful. I have done personal care at different levels for both family and non-family. It takes so many forms that much of it goes unnoticed by the servant. You give someone a ride, kneel for a conversation with someone in a chair, run for the juice when the blood sugar drops, just sitting by, listening, leaving for work an hour early to drive a guy in an accessible van to his work, learning to clear a trach, changing adult diapers, cleaning up in the midst of another person’s embarrassment. You will find yourself doing it when you are both irritated, when you have already put in a full week, when you can’t quit because there is no one else to do it.
Our church in Florida has a next-door neighbor who hated the church and spoke out against any effort to modify, expand or otherwise enhance the place. When he fell last year and began to use a wheelchair, our folks built a ramp for his front entrance. When I told John Hofstetter about this he replied “Oh, Mennonite revenge.” If you can still find a copy, I recommend the movie MY LEFT FOOT. It is a real-life story of a person with a major physical disability who is also obnoxious in various ways and hard to deal with. I am trying to say personal service is often HARD.
I have often found myself confused when attempting to be of service to others. When I was younger I usually did not realize when I was serving myself more than the one served, when the service was more about me feeling good or when my ego initiated a service that was not requested and may not have been wanted. Now I do what comes to be done, try to be respectful and carry the questions, live with ambiguity and paradox.