The Menno Melange

Sometimes, I hate pastors. Okay, that’s maybe a little bit harsh. I am a pastor, and in my work, I’ve met some of the most brilliant, humble and spiritual people. I’ve been introduced to colleagues who can create an atmosphere of hope, speak about faith matters in both plain and profound terms, and give a good name to the profession and their church, all the while going through very trying and stressful situations. I know lots of great priests and pastors. However, none of them get interviewed on the radio.

The archbishop of Canterburry, Rowan Williams, visited Canada recently, and his visit got people talking about the Anglican church in Canada’s response to the issue of homosexuality. With hot button issues like this, people are always on edge. Many people on either side of the debate seem to be very easily set off. While it is annoying to hear people at either extreme of the debate rant about how wrong the other side is, and the personal attacks that go with it, it is equally annoying to hear them empowered by stupid comments that start these arguments. By this point in the debate, don’t we know the obvious arguments people on the other side will make?

Personally, I feel that both absolute inclusion and absolute exclusion are insufficient responses for the institutional church. I believe that people on both sides of the debate are well-meaning, devoted people. It is easy for the pro-inclusion crowd to sound reasonable, especially on our left-leaning radio stations. While their statements may sound rational and intellectual the regular audience, I cringe. Not because I disagree with them (sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t), but because these pastors make irresponsible statements about the Bible. Pastors and others need to remember that when they are speaking about the Bible on the radio or TV, their audience includes Biblical literalists as well as the general public.

I expect people who write letters to the editor to speak recklessly, but it really ticks me off when pastors take the argument down unnecessary and predictable paths. If a pastor wants to talk about ethics or congregational life, that’s fine, they can say what they want, but speaking about the Bible carries with it a greater sense of responsibility. Many try so hard to avoid making it sound like a collection of fairy tales that they make it sound merely like a random collection of writings from archaic times. The other extreme is claim absolute understanding of God and the world because of one’s seemingly flawless interpretation of scriptures that were handed down by God on stone tablets in King James Version English.

On this particular radio program, a pastor said something like “the Bible was written by men in a different time who didn’t have the knowledge that we have now.” That may work as a intellectual statement, but in a theologically loaded debate, nothing could be stupider. It affirms for the opponents of Christianity that the Bible isn’t worth reading, let alone modeling one’s life after, and it affirms to the biblical literalists that the pro-inclusionists don’t take the Bible seriously. With that statement, he made himself, as a pastor, irrelevant to both sides; he is written off by one side for not being religious enough, and is written off by the other side for being religious at all.

It may not be easy to engage the text as a sacred document while sounding rational to a liberal audience, but that is what is required. If the “left” keeps making statements that imply infallibility of scripture, the “right” will keeping making the same arguments, and the discussion gets nowhere. This isn’t a matter of pandering to the annoying repetitive side, it’s a matter of neither side engaging the other, and it’s irresponsible.

Thanks to a bowl-shaped piece of foil, and a special rejigging of my TV’s cable line, we now have up to six channels, instead of the previous 1 or 2. One of the new channels we get is TVO, channel 18.

Last night we were flipping through channels and caught an episode of “The Agenda” with Steve Paikin. The show comprised of a mutli-faith panel discussing the role of religion in Canada, it’s advances and declines, and the ways it can and should connect with people. Since Ana and I are both students of religion, we were both quite interested in this topic and in the multi-faith panel that had been assembled. We noted a few comments:

So this week I had no story excerpt to write, but I am working on a sermon for this Sunday. Those of you who still visited Silent Talkie may have noticed an interesting article. It may be a bit irreverent for some, hilarious for others and incomprehensible to everyone else, but have a look at this. If you don’t know what RTFM stands for, I’ll give you a clue, the R stands for read and the M stands for manual. It’s terminology used by IT guys and others who give computer advice. Maybe this could be the new T-shirt of the emerging church.

I had big plans to do something radically different on a Sunday morning. As the weeks went by, I tempered my ambition with a realization that either I couldn’t carry out a particular idea well or that it likely wouldn’t achieve the desired outcome. By the time Sunday morning rolled around, most of my crazy ideas had fallen at the chopping block, but I did keep a few of them.

I’m certainly no pioneer, but some of these things were certainly new to the congregation and to me.
I wore jeans - Every time I preach, I wear a dress shirt and a tie, this Sunday I didn’t. Not only did I wear jeans, I also drew attention to it. In true Anabaptist fashion, I cited a lack of Biblical evidence for the tradition of dressing up for church and used it as a justification for my rebellious act.
I strayed from the pulpit (a little bit) - This is a personal victory. Every sermon I’ve ever preached is my own thought plus a few quotes from other places. However, since it’s written out in front of me, I am slavishly bound to the pulpit where I can find my sermon. I just don’t trust myself to do a 20 minute sermon from point form notes in front of me, or even worse, from memory. If the whole manuscript is in front of me, I’m stuck. This Sunday, I asked for a lapel mic and deliberately walked out from behind the pulpit to make a few points.
I invited input - My sermon required input from the congregation at various times. Their suggestions dictated the flow of that part of the sermon.

So nothing radically different in style, but with the weather and a few prominent families being away on holidays that particular weekend, I knew I could try a few new ideas. Perhaps my content may have been viewed as radical.

The lectionary story from that morning was where Jesus goes fishing with Peter, and afterwards calls him to come along and catch people instead of fish. Sure every metaphor falls apart somewhere, but I challenged them to take this fishing/gospel sharing image a little further. I asked them to think about different styles of fishing so that we could look at what they mean for living out our Christian faith that way. None of it was deeply intellectual, but if I can paint an image in someone’s mind, it’s as satisfying as a good joke and more effective than a mnemonic device I use to send my point home.

Here are a few of the images I came up with:
Ice fishing - involves a small isolated hut with an even smaller hole cut in the ice. Some Christians like to shield themselves from the elements, and only allow themselves a narrow avenue for the task they were actually sent here to do.
Trawling - is power fishing. You get a big lure attached to a big rod, dragged by a big boat with a big engine, hoping to catch a big fish. The fishing conditions can change dramatically, but you won’t know because you’re going too fast. I compared this style of fishing to the kind of Christians who leave gospel tracts laying around, but don’t stick around long enough to explain them to people.

The following Sunday, I found a gospel tract in my mailbox at the church, and nobody took credit for it. Is there some truth that I’m supposed to be convicted of, or does someone in the congregation have a similar sense of humour to me? I hope it’s the latter.

The following is an article I wrote, and it was published in the November 27th issue of the Canadian Mennonite.

Persistence through faith

Some of my greatest lessons in faith have come from working as the music coordinator in a nursing home, where I lead a choir and visit individual residents and play music for them. One of those lessons is to persist in faith despite fear and doubt.

I have seen that music can be a healing tool that should not be underestimated. I believe music is inspired by God and, through music and my faith in God, people can be reached, touched, comforted, inspired and have memories evoked. Being given such a wonderful tool, I learned to keep on despite inhibitions.

When I first started, I was extremely overwhelmed and intimidated. Part of my job was to get to know each resident by name…eventually. Not only that, but I was to initiate conversation or interaction, which generally consists of small talk, which I am not particularly good at or fond of.

But I truly believe that this job was a calling for me, an opportunity to utilize the gifts God gave me, and to make a difference in the lives of these residents. That belief alone got me through the early stages of fear—dreading going on the floor, procrastinating outside someone’s door, taking as long as I could at menial tasks like photocopying, because that was easier and less nerve-wracking than making myself vulnerable to someone who may not even want to talk to me.

To add to this fear, at the beginning there were residents who physically or vocally expressed their disinterest for my company or music.

One resident would quickly cover her face with the book she was reading whenever I would come in her room. This behaviour, I was told, was not unusual. I am certainly not one who wants to make anyone uncomfortable, so I would often just leave her alone. But something told me to not give up on her. By continually popping into her room, and inviting her to hear my music, she eventually grew to be comfortable around me, and even attended a choir practice. Since then, when she sees me she asks if I’m playing music, and she will sometimes follow me around from room to room. Sometimes she dances to the music!

Another resident came to the home very disoriented, uncomfortable and unsure of himself. He often complained of pains, and was very hard to talk to. He started attending choir, but I eventually had to meet with him privately because he complained a lot in choir and disrupted the other members. But as the weeks went by I saw drastic changes in him. He became more relaxed, walked more confidently, always had a smile on, and he even told jokes every chance he got. He now attends choir regularly, and even distributes choir folders for me—on his own initiative. That reminded me that it is never too late to change, and just how powerful persistence can be.

A third resident was so far along in dementia, nurses actually laughed at me when they saw that I was trying to communicate with her. My first few visits were fruitless, as she was in her own world, having conversations with people in her mind. At first, I dreaded visiting her because it felt so useless. However, after just a few visits of singing oldies to her, she started singing along, every note matching mine. When I’d applaud after each song, she’d thank me and say it sounded nice. I can’t say for sure if it made a difference to her, but through music and endurance I found a way to connect with her, even if only for a short while.

I can’t express enough how difficult this job was when I started, and how energizing, uplifting and rewarding it is now. Despite my personal doubts about my abilities and gifts, I trusted that God put me there for a reason, and that got me through all those awkward silences, misunderstandings and rejections.

From these experiences, I will remember that God prepares us for the road we walk on, but we must persist in faith despite any forks in the road.

—Ana Loewen

The author is currently working as music coordinator at PeopleCare long-term care residence and is church organist at Trinity Lutheran Church in Tavistock, Ont. She and her husband are preparing to put on a musical that they wrote together.

A while ago I heard about a garden gnome that was stolen from someone’s front lawn, and how the owner of the gnome received photographs in the mail of the various travels the gnome experienced. That story has been retold and re-enacted in various places with various different objects. So when I read here that it had happened again, I wasn’t all that surprised, even though it was with a plastic baby Jesus statue, rather than a gnome.

This time, the baby Jesus doll was photographed in various parts of New York state and was eventually returned, with an explanatory note and a photo album of his travels.

The owners of the nativity scene were happy to have their doll back, and given the friendly nature of the note, they forgave the “thieves”. They told the reporter that they believed the real Jesus would have forgiven them, so they felt compelled to do the same.

I think the real Jesus would applaud the theft, if only for a symbolic gesture. This doll sits in an attic most of the year, and comes out for display leading up to the holiday. I think the real Jesus wants us to take the baby Jesus out of our nativity scenes, and into our real worlds.

In the note left with the photo album, when the doll was returned, kidnappers wrote: “We are simply a group of young adults who wished to show the baby Jesus a better life than he would have seen cooped up in an attic crawl space. He has traveled over counties and states, met people and animals alike. We have done our best to show the baby Jesus the many glorious aspects of our world.”

I’m fully aware that this was likely a college prank of some kind, even an attempt to grab attention from journalists and blogging hacks like me, but the deeper meaning did not escape me. What kind of life are we giving baby Jesus if we only show him off close to Christmas?

Every Christmas I have a few books in mind that I would like to receive as gifts. I am so fond of books as a gift idea, that I often talk to other people about what they are reading, moreso around Christmas, so I can get a good idea of what to ask for. What follows is a list of books that I’ve read recently, or have on my shelf and use often as a resource. For your convenience, I’ve linked them to amazon.ca where you can order them for yourself (and I get a small commission, but that’s not why I’m doing this).

Both of the above books were promoted during the pastor’s gathering at the Mennonite Church Conference gathering in Edmonton, AB, which we attended this summer. Arnold Snyder was the keynote speaker there and the author of these books. Fellow blogger Tim Chesterton took close notes of the talk.

If you’ve read a great book along these lines recently, let me know. Also, if you’ve read one of these books lately and disagree with my assessment, let me know that too.

Some of you may know the story where Sister Helen Prejean was casually discussing the death penalty. Her opponent quoted a verse from the Bible to support his pro-death penalty stance. Building on his logic, she responded with a number of verses that countered his argument and demonstrated a fuller understanding of the relevant texts. This southern gentleman, knowing he outmatched, conceded by saying, “I ain’t gonna get into no Bible quotin’ with no nun.”

I’m not a fan of proof-texting (the quoting of individual scripture verses/passages as a sole method of winning arguments) but I am a fan of people building on each other’s points from a mutual adoration of the scriptural texts, as they wrestle over the meaning of the relevant passages.

Recently, Franklin Graham was invited to lead a festival in Winnipeg. The Mennonites in Winnipeg were among his greatest fans and his most vocal opponents. All the furor arose from comments he made in the wake of the September 11 attacks in New York City.

The tragic events took place on a Tuesday, and soon after, President George W. Bush called for a day of prayer for the following Friday. A special prayer service took place in Washingtong DC, which was attended by a number of political and Christian dignitaries. CNN reported from outside the chapel, and as the service was going on, they interviewed Franklin Graham, whose father Billy was participating in the service inside the church.

During that interview, Graham Jr. made a number of noteworthy comments. The more politically noteworthy ones include him saying that Islam was a “very evil and wicked religion” and his stating that America should “go after these guys with everything we’ve got”, “every hellish weapon in our inventory.” Those statements, while saddening, aren’t all that surprising, especially given the post-9/11 emotion that pervaded the national sentiment. The fact that he hasn’t apologized doesn’t surprise me either; given the sense of infallibility the broader church often gives to its leaders. What was the most surprising and intriguing part of the interview happened immediately after those statements.

In a role reversal from the Prejean story, the secular reporter for the secular TV news channel quoted scripture, and the Biblically trained scholar inadequately engaged her. It may have been pre-scripted by someone else, it may have been a way of goading him into saying more controversial things, or it may have been a genuine attempt to clarify something that didn’t jive, but the reporter quoted the sermon on the mount. “In the Bible, Jesus tells his followers to love their enemies. How do you think that applies to this situation?” It was probably the best question I had ever heard asked on CNN. I was on the edge of my seat. Was he going to redeem himself? Could he possibly justify his previous comments with that particular verse? It was as though a chess match had unfolded before my eyes, and this young woman with no street cred had just declared checkmate on Big Blue (sorry for mixing metaphors).

But rather than engage her, rather than use the opportunity to grapple with the text, he brushed her off. “That passage speaks to us as individuals, not to us as a nation.” Obvious questions spring to mind: isn’t a nation made up of individuals? Can a nation, which is made up of individuals who love their enemies, not love their enemies? What exactly does Jesus say to nations? etc. It isn’t frustrating that his opinion is different than mine, but that instead of responding constructively with complimentary texts, he acted as though she didn’t deserve to engage him in theological discourse.

I’m a supporter of Mennonite churches participating with other groups, including evangelical groups, on ecumenical efforts. Churches working together to spread the good news of Jesus is a good thing. I love Billy Graham. I think he is an engaging and powerful speaker, and a compassionate and respectable voice for Christianity. However, I cannot respect Franklin Graham, and I refuse to endorse the charities, including Samaritan’s purse, which bear his name.

My hat goes off to those who attended the Festival, wanting to hear and share the good news. However, a greater salute goes to those who stood outside the services and held an ‘information picket’. You can try to spread the good news with gospel festivals and Christmas goodies, but not with the hellish weapons in the inventory of the US military.

Many years have passed since I left high school. I’ve made a number of right and wrong choices since then, and so have the peers that I graduated with. I don’t keep in touch with many of the people I grew up with at church, but within Mennonite communities, it’s usually pretty easy to at least know what happened to people.

A few of us went off to secular schools. Of this group, most moved away and return only on holidays. There are a few who returned and involved themselves in the church and are strong participating members, there are a few who have stopped attending church altogether in their new towns, and the rest have some sort of connection with other churches, with varying attendance, commitment and adherence. Some found jobs that they love and some still feel stuck in a rut. No real pattern, no strong adherence rate, no strong rejection rate.

A large number, who were neither particularly inclined to spirituality or academia, who stuck around, found jobs, and grew up. Slightly more than half of them kept their ties to at least some church. A few switched churches, a few gave it up all together. A high, but not surprising number succumbed to the influence from their work place and got into one or more of sex, drugs and alcohol, to the point where they rejected the church and were quite happy to have the church reject them.

So those were the ones bound for trouble anyway, so it’s not all that surprising that “the world” won over a few of them. A few of them did remain loyal, so there was some success, but what about the chosen ones who chose correctly?

Almost all of them loved Bible college, embraced the content of their teaching and found strength in their newfound community, meaning they pass, graduate and get married. So here, as expected, is the success right?

Well, after that it gets a bit foggy, mostly because, very few of them return home. Part of the problem is that they leave a community in which their Mennonite ethnicity makes them a member of an immigrant minority group and join a community where the Mennonites were the original settlers and where Mennonites are a dominant force is local religious, cultural, business and political spheres. It is safe to say that a majority stay away, but a few do return. They come back advocating a more energetic worship style, which doesn’t float well. They expect to be given leadership positions, or at least some respect for what they’ve learned, which they don’t always get. These people are natural candidates for youth pastor positions, but they don’t fit as well into the predetermined molds as much as people originally dreamt.

A while ago, that church went through a major leadership turmoil, and subsequent church split, and a few of the forces behind it were products of the officially sanctioned Bible College.

The church is almost empty of people with Bible College education. Besides the twenty- and thirty-somethings that are there raising families, the majority of the members don’t even have full highschool education. This is partly because of the realities of being a first and second generation immigrant community, but partly also because of a suspicion of higher learning, and those who have attained it.

So what am I getting at? Small town churches are bound to lose their youth, that’s not surprising. It is interesting to see how the officially sanctioned college has failed this particular congregation that has supported it so much. Factories and secular schools can’t be expected to strengthen the church, not at all.

The people I’ve talked to since that didn’t do the Bible college route, who have kept the faith, have been asking good questions and view their faith through a new and interesting worldview. Those who went to Bible College and came back were disillusioned by various things, and found that their time at the school didn’t really prepare them for real life. Those who went and didn’t come back, are still out there, “living the Word”, or whatever Christian-ese line you want to use, and very often participating in other small town churches, just not the one we grew up at together.

Maybe small-town churches should withhold their support until they see what their money will get them. Maybe the church should be in a “Pray for Me” poster hung up at the Bible College.

Upon completing high school, I perceived that I had three choices, 1) go off to the church sponsored Bible college, 2) stay home and work/settle down/get married/etc., or 3) go study something else somewhere else, and I felt strongly that my church community was advocating them in that order. After all, if I was at the official Bible college, it was certain that I was learning approved doctrine and most likely living approved lifestyle, and if I stayed home, at least I was close enough to still be influenced/supported by the church community. If I went somewhere else, only time would tell how far I was going to stray.

One way that this was made very clear was the prominent display of the “pray for me” posters at the back of the church. Bible Colleges mail photographs of students to their respective churches, with headings like, “Pray for me while I study at such-and-such Bible College.” While there was likely some sincere spiritual request in that, it was never free of inherent advertisement for that particular school and that particular type of lifestyle. These guys also got their names mentioned in the prayer requests section of the church bulletin on occasion.

I almost went to that Bible College, until I realized that I could both study for a career and enhance my faith. My secular University didn’t send “Pray for Me” posters to my church and my name didn’t show up in the bulletin.

Other guys stuck around, worked in local factories, played on the church baseball team, etc. Their workplaces didn’t send “Pray for Me” posters to the church either, and these local boys didn’t get their name in the bulletin either.

(I speak in gender specific terms intentionally. I talked to a lot of the guys about this similar experience, but I can’t even pretend to understand the pressures the girls faced, with the greater pressures to get married and have children, not to mention the greater discouragement to pursue higher learning.)

While I listened to professors enthusiastically deconstruct the beliefs I had held since my youth, my Bible college friends had those beliefs aggressively reinforced.
While I was surrounded by party culture and various other religious and non-religious groups, and while my factory friends found themselves surrounded in a more vulgar party culture and by people who found numerous destructive outlets for their newfound disposible income, our Bible college friends were surrounded by religiously motivated and spiritually conscious peers their own age.
While my factory friends worked for a companies that only knew how to extend compassion through pay-cheques and provincially outlined regulations, and while I studied at an institution that expected me to determine my own destiny, my Bible college friends were constantly encouraged by their professors, deans, and administrators in financial, academic and spiritual matters.

While my Bible college friends were prayed for, the rest of us weren’t. Does that make sense to anyone? While in some ways everyone deserves and benefits from prayer, if anyone in the church family needs it the least, it’s the youth that are studying at Bible colleges.