Mosaic Mennonites

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From Patient Waiting to Chaotic Celebration

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Last Christmas, despite the pandemic, my Aunt Marietta still made pierogies for Christmas Eve. She packed them up and dropped them off for the smaller gatherings of my extended family, for us to enjoy separately. Although we didn’t gather as we normally would for our Slovak Christmas Eve meal, with cousins, aunts, and uncles, my aunt still extended her care with these traditional labors of love, made from dough, potato, and cheese, even in the midst of a pandemic. “Taste and see that the Lord is good.”

Last year, I watched a sparse Christmas Eve mass from the Vatican. We didn’t attend gathered worship. And most human interactions were calculated with care for risk, vulnerability, and a recognition that maintaining distance was, in a strange way, an act of love.

This year I am looking forward to my aunt’s homemade pierogies with extended family. This meal connects me with my family story and legacy of faith.

My own last name, Kriss, comes from the Slovak word for “cross.” I am likely a descendant from generations of Roman Catholic Christians whose faith became so important to them that it became their family name. This traditional meal, without meat, on Christmas Eve marks a celebration of the birth of Christ “among the animals.” It will be good to eat together again.

This year I enter the season of Christmas with deep gratitude. I am grateful to readily gather with family and friends. I have been enjoying Advent-gathered worship (this season I’ve worshiped with Philadelphia (PA) Praise Center, Zion (Souderton, PA), Salem (Quakertown, PA), and Doylestown (PA)). While life is still different because of the pandemic, there is a resumption of rhythms that are life-giving. I want to embrace these celebrations, remembering what it was like to reframe holiday practices and to resume them with more depth of intention and appreciation.

Advent is about waiting. It is an attempt to go slowly and thoughtfully. For many of us, the pandemic has stretched our patience. It has frayed our sense of community and connectivity. Yet, I have also seen the pandemic open our creative process to figure out how to extend love and care in a precarious time.

Christmas is about the inbreaking. While Advent is often slow and reflective, Christmas can be chaos and frenzied. The past 21 months has felt like a combination of the two seasons: a long, arduous wait combined with chaos and frenzy.

The inbreaking of Christmas is about the love of God incarnate, about God crossing the spiritual and social distance between us for the sake of redemption and abundant life. The coming of Jesus is an extension of the love that created all things.

This season as we gather, as we remember a year without gathering for some, may we remember the love that compels us to cross distances, to share what we have, to be transformed through the waiting and even through the chaos.

What One Day Was, But is No Longer

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Translated into English by Andrés Castillo

Editor’s note: This is part two of Dania Hernández’s call story. Part one is available here. Hernández is Pastor of Peña de Horeb, a Mosaic congregation in Philadelphia, PA.

Life for Hernández in the US began in a less conventional way. Confident that this was what she wanted, she did not look back for a single moment and moved forward. Her relationship with her boyfriend strengthened and soon she became his wife and the mother of his three children. They put down roots and decided to fight for life in the country of opportunity.

That’s how the first twenty years passed, years in which Hernández experienced great joys, along with deep sorrows. Among the moments she counts as blessings is having been reunited with God and overcoming the many challenges she encountered along the way.

Hernández felt a deep desire to serve God and was called to be a pastor. Doors opened for an opportunity in a Mennonite faith community called Peña de Horeb in Philadelphia, PA. Everything seemed perfect. She had what she had always dreamed of: a cozy home and economic stability.

What happens when all this begins to fall apart? How do you deal with fear? How do you face the moments of darkness that enclose your life? How do you coexist between what once was, but is no longer?

Divorce and a Dead End

Love is defined in many ways: a feeling of affection towards another human being or one thing; the free decision to feel affinity for others or others; the greatest force that moves the human being. Love never comes without wounds.

Life had begun to become difficult for the married couple. The constant psychological abuse and humiliation that Pastor Dania experienced from her husband made her lose herself in a dead-end. Her self-love waned to such an extent that this was reflected in her gaze, her body, her skin, and the constant anxiety she experienced. Pastor Dania was followed by pain generated by the separation from her husband.

“A part of one always knows that it can all end,” Hernández said sadly. “She perceives it, discerns it, but doesn’t understand it. The signs or red flags that appear on the road are as obvious as the coldness of a conversation, the loneliness in each other’s company, the silence generated by the distance, the uncomfortable looks. One becomes blind out of fear of letting go, when in reality letting go is the most beautiful act of freedom.”

Pastor Dania would have loved for the story with her ex-husband to have been different. Unfortunately, her story, her wounds, and her scars cannot be erased. They remain there to remind her that if she had not traveled this path, she might not have become the woman she is today: a tolerant, compassionate woman, full of love and courage, who, in the midst of the deepest dark waters, was able to come to the surface and raise her head high.

Pastor Dania’s call story will conclude next week with part III.

Book Review: How to Change the World, One Penny at a Time

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“How to Change the World, One Penny at a Time: The Story of Claude Good and the Worm Project” (208pp. illus. Masthof Press, 2021, $14.00)

This book serves as a tribute, not only to Claude Good and the “Worm Project,” but also to the book’s author, Dawn Ruth Nelson. While writing the book, Dawn Ruth Nelson was diagnosed with cancer; fellow writer, Beverly Benner Miller, finished the book when Dawn could no longer continue the project. 

This book offers fascinating insight into mid-twentieth century, rural, Pennsylvania, Mennonite life, especially for those, like me, who are uninformed.  Claude Good began life with plenty of challenges, including a difficult family life. But even from his earliest days, he (and his wife, Alice) seemed to be followed by a wonderful sense of call and purpose.

© 2021 Masthof Bookstore and Press

This call and purpose saw them both overcome not having opportunity to go to high school, yet eventually each earned a degree at Eastern Mennonite College (Harrisonburg, VA). Claude even continued to receive a graduate degree in sociology at Cornell University (Ithaca, NY) and pursued theological studies.  In 1960, with additional training from Wycliffe Bible Translators, the Goods, sponsored by the Franconia Mission Board, settled in the remote town Chicahuaxtla, Mexico. Chicahuaxtla was home to an indigenous native tribe, the Triqui. 

The Goods raised their family (three daughters and two sons) in the village for the next 25 years (without electricity for ten years). Over that time, the New Testament was translated into three Triqui dialects.

The Goods (and the Blank family, who joined them in 1961) found themselves occupied with a great deal of makeshift primary healthcare work, as medical facilities in the region were scant.  Yet the fruits of their work, such as conversions, baptisms, and the beginning of a small church in 1974, were evident.  Sadly, social and political unrest caused the Good family to relocate to the US in 1985. 

Claude continued to helped with translation of the Triqui Bible while also doing ministry in local Franconia area churches.  Alice finished a Master’s in Education and became a chaplain at several retirement communities.  They settled into Souderton (PA) Mennonite Church, and it seemed as if the Goods might have finished their direct ministry in Chicahuaxtla.

But, in the early 1990s, “The Worm Project” began.  The Goods had long been aware that digestive problems, specifically intestinal worms, were a major health problem for the Triqui.  Claude discovered that, by simply including Albendazole tablets into their diet, the intestinal worm challenge would largely be abated. However, these tablets were not readily available to the Triqui people.  When one reads Claude’s reflections from that time, it almost seems that at the age of 69 he had finally found his life’s calling.

The rest of the book details how “The Worm Project” took on shape.  Claude gave himself tirelessly to this project, with efforts that achieved great things, not only for the village of Chicahuaxtla, but throughout the world. In the end, Claude’s wide network of collective work brought a good deal of recognition to him and his humanitarian work, centered on the fight against intestinal worms throughout the globe. 

The book ends with Alice’s death in 2008 and Claude dying peacefully in 2019, at age 90. 

A story like this points out that even an impressive, challenging, worthy, first 25 years of ministry can still be preliminary preparation for an even greater work to follow.  For Claude and Alice Good, that certainly seems to have been the case.

To purchase a copy of the book, click here. Proceeds from the sale of this book will go directly to The Worm Project to purchase medicine to treat even more children from parasitic worms. 

More information about The Worm Project is available at their website. 

What Happens at the Cabin, Stays at the Cabin

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I recently enjoyed my annual trip to our family hunting cabin in pursuit of the elusive white tail buck. While I had a wonderful time, the word elusive accurately describes my three days spent in the woods of Columbia County, PA.

This year my brother-in-law distributed t-shirts bearing the proud name of Camp YO-HO. The back of the shirt appropriately declares, “What happens at the cabin, stays at the cabin.” I sense some of this is to initiate newcomers with the most important rule of Camp YO-HO.

Photo by Terry Travelpiece.

I am sure many have heard similar comments during family trips or gatherings of friends. While this humorous saying is usually harmless, I am often intrigued by the secret-keeping that is common within our families and faith communities. For example, while at the cabin, my gift-giving brother-in-law shared that the football team, coached by his son, is under investigation for using racial slurs towards an opponent. I was surprised to learn he only knows about this because his daughter-in-law, not his son, informed him. We were asked not to tell other members of the family.

I immediately went online and found no less than four stories of the alleged accusations. It seems so odd to treat a public story with such secrecy. Yet I bump into this approach on a regular basis in our faith communities too.

Randy Heacock (first row, center) with family members at the cabin, wearing their new shirts. Photo by Terry Travelpiece.

Though rarely identified, I have discovered a slew of reasons why secrets are encouraged. Image is a big factor. We often fear what others will think if less than positive realities are named publicly. We do not want a loved one or respected friend to be seen in a negative light.

At times, our fear of conflict also keeps our lips sealed. More difficult decisions will need to be made if known struggles are stated clearly. Public acknowledgement can raise tension or even harm an institution or business. Hence, it may be easier to keep silent than to name known abuses. Such abuses can take the form towards children, money, power, corruption, or manipulation. Most notably this has happened in the Catholic Church, Penn State, and the USA Gymnastic program. We must also admit that it happens within Mosaic Conference, our churches, institutions, and individual families.

The interesting thing is that we often keep secrets to keep unity and peace. However, secrets do not deliver either. The writer of I John declares, “If we walk in the light, as God is in the light, we have fellowship with one another” (I John 1:7a, NIV). To walk in the light is to expose or be transparent. When we learn to live exposed, transparent lives, then, and only then, will we experience genuine relationships as God intended.

When and for what are you most tempted to keep secrets? May we pray for God’s wisdom to help us live in God’s exposed light. May we have the courage to build families and create communities of faith that graciously expose all to God’s light. Just maybe, we will begin to experience relationships as God intends!

New Showroom Dedicated to the Glory of God

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On December 7, Ron Bergey, Robert Bergey, and Dale Bergey, owners of Bergey’s Electric (Hatfield, PA), a family-run business, were asked the question, “Do you commit this day to dedicate this showroom for the glory of God on earth as it is in heaven?” All three owners responded, “We do.”

Participants were invited to offer prayers and light electric candles at the dedication service. Photo by Noel Santiago.

“Upon your words of affirmation, in the company of these people, we dedicate Bergey’s Electric Showroom to the glory of God!” was then heard throughout the showroom.

The new showroom, recently opened by Bergey’s Electric, is visibly located along the heavily traveled Route 309 corridor in Hatfield, PA. As a result, new folks are discovering who Bergey’s Electric is. Ron Bergey, CEO and one of the owners, requested that pastors and prayer team members of Mosaic Conference lead the business in a dedication of the showroom.

Standing amidst washers and dryers, freezers and chest freezers, microwaves, wall ovens, cooktops, and other smart appliances, approximately 35 people, including the extended Bergey family, friends, and associates from the community, gathered for the dedication.

Bergey’s Electric invited Mosaic pastors and prayer team members to dedicate their new showroom to God’s glory on December 7. Photo by Noel Santiago.

Bergey’s Electric began in 1936 by founder Willard Bergey, grandfather of Ron, Robert, and Dale. Willard was the neighborhood “go-to” man for electric service needs when he first started the business. Willard was always ready to help families with their electrical needs. As his list of customers grew, he realized that this could be a viable business.

At the dedication, stories were shared about God’s faithfulness over the decades and especially how God’s provision would appear “just-in-time” during difficult economic times.

Pastor Randy Heacock left) and Pastor Scott Roth right) interact with family and friends at the dedication. Photo by Noel Santiago.

Pastor Randy Heacock, of Doylestown (PA) Mennonite Church, offered words of encouragement and challenge, noting that with new visibility will come new opportunities.

The main focal point of the dedication was not the appliances, but a prayer centerpiece that Sandy Landes, Prayer Minister at Doylestown (PA) Mennonite Church, and Jeannette Phillips, Mosaic Conference Intercessor, created together. The climax of the dedication happened around this prayer centerpiece. Those present could offer prayers, symbolized by small electric tea lamps that each person placed at the centerpiece.

The Bergey owners’ symbol was a 1000-watt Metal Halide lamp that was put together as a special piece. This lamp represented their ongoing trust in God for their business as well as their commitment to using their business for God’s glory.

Pastor Scott Roth, of Line Lexington (PA) Mennonite Church, offered the closing, dedicatory prayer. The prayer focused on God’s presence increasingly becoming real to all those who interact with Bergey’s Electric.

The Metal Halide Lamp was lit by the owners of Bergey’s Electric, representing their ongoing trust in God for the business. Photo by Noel Santiago.
Pastor Scott Roth leads in a dedicatory prayer of the new showroom. Photo by Randy Heacock.

Goodbye, Beloved Nicaragua

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Translated into English by Andrés Castillo

Editor’s Note: Dania Hernández is Pastor of Peña de Horeb, a Mosaic congregation in Philadelphia, PA. This is part one of Pastor Dania’s call to ministry story.

Dania Hernández finds her story in the many places she has traveled. At 20 years old, still living with her family in Nicaragua, she decided to embark on a journey of no return to the United States, accompanied by her boyfriend. Every place she traveled, every meal she tasted, every scent she smelled, every person she met, every decision she made, led her to the experiences that make up her existence.

From her resilient and moving story, she shares with us the difficult and dangerous passage across the border between Mexico and the United States. Was she aware of the danger to which she was exposed? What happened after she arrived in the United States? How would she overcome the harshest circumstances? Can forgiveness make rebirth possible?

Leaving Nicaragua, the Gallo Pinto, and Half of Her Life

Hernández left Nicaragua, and with it, half of her life. The comforting Gallo Pinto dish on Sundays, the parties with friends, the warm Christmases, the naps after lunch, the refuge of her home. The road to the US is long and strange, but at the same time exciting and wonderful; it is a mixture of sweet and sour sensations “that stir inside you,” said Hernández.

“I felt like I was in a movie,” said Pastor Dania. “For me, it was more of an adventure of youth. I was not aware of the dangers I faced, and without realizing it, I was the protagonist of the film of my life, where God took care of every step I took.”

No matter how difficult and dangerous it was to move forward on the road that would lead to her American dream, she did not hesitate for a second. In a firm and safe step together with her boyfriend at the time, she crossed the long and dangerous road along the border—a path full of thick and dense vegetation. They slept and ate in makeshift places. That didn’t matter, because she was getting closer and closer to reaching the goal they had visualized.

Sometimes during the day, she and the other group of people she was traveling with in a cargo truck were transported, while at night they were dropped off somewhere else where they had to travel long distances to get near the desert. On other occasions it was the opposite, where they walked during the day in high temperatures, fearing heat stroke. They had not yet reached the border, but Dania felt so alive, so full of faith and hope for the new life she would start.

She was finally able to reach the border. Her passage was not traumatic, but along the way she had to say goodbye to other people who could not reach that goal because death met them.

“Against all odds,” said Hernández, “we were able to reach Philadelphia, where a church brother became our support.”

Part two of Pastor Dania’s story continues next week.

Who Then is This?

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“Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?”  

Mark 4:41, ESV

The disciples had just experienced a terrifying storm as they crossed the sea of Galilee. Jesus had directed them to cross over to the other side. As they began their journey, Jesus fell asleep.

A terrifying storm arose to such an extent that the disciples screamed: “Save us, Lord; we are perishing!” (Matt. 8:25, NASB)

Jesus “rebuked the wind and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.” (Mark 4:39, ESV).

It’s in this context that the disciples wondered in amazement and said, “What kind of a man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?” (Matt. 8:27, NASB)

The Jewish people of Jesus’ day were waiting for a messiah; but the Messiah they were waiting for was a military leader, not necessarily a divine figure. In their history, they had experienced a time of freedom after the Maccabean revolt and had recently been brought under Roman rule and occupation.

When the disciples ask this question, “Who then is this?” they are doing so in the context of creation’s obedience. When Jesus raised the dead, healed the sick, or even fed 5000, the disciples never reacted this way. Why? Other prophets had raised the dead, healed the sick, miraculously fed people, but had anyone other than God, ever calmed a storm? 

In the Psalms we read that God: “… calm[s] the raging seas and their roaring waves”, “… rule[s] the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, you still them” and “… made the storm be still, and the waves of the sea were hushed.” (Ps. 65:7, 89:9, 107:29, ESV). The disciples begin to realize that Jesus had done something that in all of Scripture is attributed only to God. The question, “…who then is this…?” seemed appropriate.

The Virtual Prayer Team of Mosaic Conference has been keeping three questions before us, thanks to Leadership Minister Jeff Wright:

  • Who is Jesus? 
  • What does Jesus want us to do? 
  • How does Jesus want us to do it? 

These questions require an unfolding, ongoing conversation, and discernment in a time of cultural and societal changes. Yet, is there more to be known about who Jesus is?

Jude 1:5 (ESV) reads: “Now I want to remind you, although you once fully knew it, that Jesus, who saved a people out of the land of Egypt, afterward destroyed those who did not believe.”

The ESV states that Jesus saved a people out of the land of Egypt. Wait a minute, wasn’t that God who did that? What is Jesus doing there? Isn’t it God who calms storms in the Psalms? What is Jesus doing at Galilee?

After his resurrection, Jesus appears to his disciples and says, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses and the Prophets and the Psalms must be fulfilled” (Luke 24:44, ESV). Note here that he includes the Psalms in what was written about him.

Is there a sense in which we should keep inquiring to know the Jesus that both Old and New Testaments talk about? Hmmm… who then is this?

Reading Through Mark Together

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Throughout 2021, Ambler (PA) Mennonite Church has been on a journey with Jesus. Over the last 10 months, we’ve read and preached through the entire Gospel of Mark together. To celebrate our completion, we decided to read the whole story aloud, from Mark 1:1, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God,” to chapter 16, “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”

Not only is reading like this fun, it’s also how the early church would have heard the Gospel of Mark. It was written to be read aloud in a society with about 10% literacy. We experienced listening like the very first Christians, hearing the story of Jesus read all at once.

Nine of us gathered on a Saturday evening in the sanctuary. We had sandwiches for dinner because Mark is full of literary sandwiches. In Mark, one story is like the bread. Then it gets interrupted with another story: the metaphorical peanut butter. And then Mark goes back to finish the first story: bread slice #2.

Pastor Jacob Curtis lights a candle for each chapter read in the gospel of Mark at Ambler (PA) Mennonite Church. Photo by Randy Martin.

After our (non-literary) sandwiches were assembled, we sat around a large table and distributed Bibles, paper, and colored pencils for drawing and doodling. And then we took turns reading, chapter by chapter. We lit a candle for each chapter we read, though some of the flames went out before the women found the tomb empty in chapter 16. In less than two hours we’d read the whole book aloud.

Congregants from Ambler (PA) Mennonite Church gather to read and listen to the gospel of Mark, in one sitting. Photo by Randy Martin.

When it was over, we shared what we’d heard. We were struck by how quickly the reading went—our familiarity with the stories made the two hours feel very short. We noticed how Jesus wants to heal people and does so, over and over again. We noticed how often the disciples misunderstood Jesus, how thick they seem in Mark.

People say that preaching through the lectionary is a good discipline because you can’t cherry-pick Scriptures you like to preach. I found that preaching straight through the Gospel of Mark was an even better discipline. We agreed not to skip anything—which meant we committed to wrestling with the parts of the Gospel that are most challenging and uncomfortable.

As a preacher, I kept thinking “How did I end up with all the hard stories?” But then I listened to the sermons my co-pastor and husband, Jacob Curtis, preached, and I realized he got stuck with a pile of hard texts too. Jesus’s teaching and living and dying and rising just weren’t as nice and easy as we’d like them to be.

What struck me most as we read through the entire Gospel in one evening was how humbled I am by identifying with Jesus’s 12 disciples. Jesus’s best students and closest friends misunderstand him from beginning to end. They’re constantly shooing children away and fighting with each other for the best seat and pulling Jesus aside for private explanations. Even when Jesus is about to die and begs them to stay awake and pray with him, they just can’t do it.

Though I think I know Jesus so well, I was humbled to realize that, in story after story, I found Jesus’s words and actions unsettling and confusing—just like his first disciples.