by John Stoltzfus
“There are no unsacred places; there are only sacred places and desecrated places.”
~ Wendell Berry
“Why are we doing this, Dad?” exclaimed my daughter in dismay, in one of her low moments, as we walked into the thin air of the Sangre de Cristo mountains high above the desert region of Taos, New Mexico.
In spite of the incredible scenery, I asked myself the same question at various points during our family sabbatical experience in New Mexico. The path we chose for this time away was often full of challenges and obstacles, not the least attempting to climb mountains of 12,000 feet!
One of the constant refrains from our sabbatical host in Taos and wilderness guide extraordinaire, Todd Wynward, is that there is more in you than you know. Wilderness, in the biblical narrative, is often that place where the people of God are transformed and led to discover anew the essential nature of God’s presence in and around us. Much like it was for Moses, it is the place where God shows up in a burning bush if we have the courage to draw close and observe.
My wife, Paula, and our three children spent three weeks this summer, as a part of my sabbatical, exploring this wilderness in and around Taos in an effort to provide an educational environment and pilgrimage for the entire family. After reading Todd Wynward’s book “Rewilding the Way: Break Free to Follow an Untamed God” we were inspired to embark on a journey exploring how we can be shaped into the kind of people God envisions to embrace a new day of justice, mercy and kindness for all the earth.
How can we model to our children and to our world a life that gives witness to the in-breaking wild and wonderful kingdom of God? How can we be made uneasy by, or as Martin Luther King Jr. says, “maladjusted” to, the ways our modern society and culture cause harm to the Earth, to each other, and to our spirituality?
In the pristine high wilderness region of New Mexico, filled with the stunning beauty of wildflowers, aspen trees and cool rushing streams, it is hard to come to grips with the harm we are doing to this planet, God’s good creation, and to one another.
Wen Stephenson, in his book “What We’re Fighting for Now is Each Other,” states that “we are not avoiding the catastrophe that is coming within our century and the lives of our children and grandchildren. Rather we’re plunging headlong toward the worst-case scenarios–critical global food and water shortages, rapid sea-level rise, social upheaval–and beyond.” And more importantly particularly to us as Christians, those least responsible for the climate change, the poor and marginalized, are often the most affected.
The climate is changing so why aren’t we?
My children inspired me on this pilgrimage. They met and surpassed every challenge we put before them. I owe it to them and to all of our children to leave our planet, our earthly home in better shape.
The task before us is difficult. Coming to terms with the climate catastrophe is hard. It is a spiritual struggle. It confronts our deepest questions and values about ourselves. It requires a radical necessity of moral change. It requires our being saved from business-as-usual. It requires us to be grounded in the strength of God’s faithfulness and a faith community where we live into the call to be good stewards of the planet for the well-being of all of God’s creatures.
God will provide in the wilderness. Do we have the courage to see this place as sacred ground and encounter a holy God in the burning bush of our time?
My Subaru was overdue for an oil change, so I took it to a local mechanic in Bridgewater Corners, Vermont. I needed my out-of-state car to run smoothly while I serve as Interim Pastor at Taftsville Chapel Mennonite Fellowship. “Take a good look,” I said, “this car has a lot of miles on it, over 100,000, and I am putting a lot more miles on it.” He took one look and countered, “With that Outback, you are just getting started!” An Outback, even with PA license plate, fits right into the landscape in Vermont, and Chris the mechanic seemed happy to help.
In a place and time when only 17% of the state’s residents regularly attend houses of worship, the lowest church attendance in the nation, it is no small witness to be known for generating a sense of community ownership of a camp that cares well for local children. When the stories of Jesus are shared in the way of Jesus, a community will remember that camp was invitational, playful, and welcoming.
There is yet another kind of witness that neighbors tell about Vermont Mennonites. I hear it from Charlie Wilson, long-time resident and observer of Taftsville, the hamlet where my interim congregation worships. I am sitting in a presentation at the Woodstock Historical Society, where he is telling stories about Taftsville’s recent past. “If you walk by the Chapel on a summer Sunday morning and the windows are open,” he tells the group, “you will hear the unsurpassed acappella singing of the Mennonites, and at Christmas they serenade the village with carols.”
This past Sunday, Mia, an elementary-school-aged girl from Indonesian Light Church, told me that she thinks she might want to be a pastor. Her mom remarked that this is a relatively new development within the last few months. Though she tagged on that sometimes she wants to be a doctor too. Both tough jobs, I responded. And both things that help people, her mom said. Her mom wondered where the pastoral desire might have originated. There is no doubt in my mind that having Emily Ralph Servant as the congregation’s interim pastor for the past six months has something to do with it. This young girl has experienced that women, too, might be pastors and her life is forever changed. I look forward to the day 30 years or so from now when this young woman might be my pastor, shaped by the city, loved by a congregation, and formed as one who is loved by God.
The Spirit is truly upon us, calling men and women, stirring the young, and giving dreams to those of us who have been on the journey longer. May we be able to live into these possibilities that are for sure beyond even our greatest hopes and imagination. Thanks be to God that the Spirit is undoubtedly still with us and calling among us in the space in between.
Recently, I had an intriguing conversation about communion with a friend who worships at a local Catholic parish. He described his weekly experience of partaking the Holy Eucharist as being “a powerful, mysterious, holy event that brings [him] into the very presence of God – and therefore, something [he] needs to experience every week.” As I quietly reflected on my own experience at the Lord’s Table, somehow I felt as if I was missing something very important in my faith. In fact, his statement challenged me to think more intentionally about my own thoughts about communion.
According to the Franconia Conference by-laws the vision for the conference is set by the conferring of the delegates. At the Fall 2015 Assembly, the vision of the conference was set through the passing of five Church Together Statements from congregations. Three of these statements called for either a taskforce or commission to carry out the work outlined in the statement. Therefore, the Israel/Palestine and Addressing Abuse Taskforces, along with the Faith and Life Commission have been formed. Here is an update on their work:
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