Mosaic Mennonites

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Shalom Fund Exceeds Goal!

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As of July 7, 2021, donations to the Mosaic Conference’s Shalom Fund have reached $206,874.01, surpassing the goal of $200,000, according to Conrad Martin, Mosaic’s Director of Finance.

The Shalom Fund was created in the spring of 2020 as a direct response to COVID-19 and the ensuing economic crisis experienced in Mosaic Conference and beyond. The fund supports pastors, congregations, and ministries working directly with those affected by COVID-19 or economic challenges caused by the pandemic.

“The Shalom Fund has fostered a sense of real hope in a difficult time,” said Executive Minister Steve Kriss. “I’m grateful for those who have contributed to help sustain ministries across our Conference and beyond through the reach of our Conference Related Ministries. Thousands of people have been fed, cared for, and blessed through the Shalom Fund.”

The Shalom Fund continues to enable Mosaic Conference to respond to the most vulnerable within our membership and neighborhoods by empowering local ministries to meet real needs with Christ’s love and generosity in a time of fear and anxiety. “I’m so grateful to witness how our Conference constituency responded in such a generous way in giving to the Shalom Fund,” shared Conference Moderator Ken Burkholder (Deep Run East congregation, Perkasie, PA). “This is a testimony to God’s goodness among us during a very difficult time, as well as our loving care and compassion for one another.”

From large gifts to donations of just a few dollars, the Shalom Fund has been able to do more than any of us could ever imagine. “Together, by extending God’s generosity to us, we have been a witness of Christ’s peace that surpasses all understanding,” reflected Kriss.

The Seashells in My Hands

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Editor’s Note: On June 12, 2021, Pastor Josh Meyer, Mosaic Leadership Minister, gave the commencement address to the 2021 graduating class of Dock Mennonite Academy (Lansdale, PA). In the address, Meyer shared three stories with the graduates. The stories offered challenges and wisdom on how to pursue a meaningful life. Here is a story from Meyer’s speech.  

A number of years ago I heard about a pastor who was at the beach with his wife and two kids. They were walking along the water picking up seashells – except they weren’t full shells. They were like those little fragments of shells, the kind of “sea shell shrapnel” that shows up by the water. The kids were running around with these handfuls of broken shells, trying to see who could pick up the most.

Suddenly, the family saw something floating in the water. They stopped to watch and realized that about 30 feet offshore was a giant starfish, just bobbing in the water.

Now if you’re a kid, getting your hands on a starfish is like striking gold, so after watching it for a while, the youngest son got a look in his eye, like, “That starfish is mine,” and he went charging into the water after it.

He only got about halfway, though, before he stopped and came back. The dad, from the shore, reassured him, “It’s alright, buddy – you can go. Go get the starfish!”

The kid went back in after it, and he got even closer this time, but before he made it all the way, he stopped again and came back in. The dad continued to encourage him, “You can do it, you were so close, go back out and grab it.”

The little boy ran out one more time, and this time he got all the way there, right next to the starfish. Literally all he had to do was reach out and pick it up, but instead he turned and ran back to the beach.

Now the whole family was yelling, “Buddy, you were right there! What’s the problem? Just pick it up!”

And finally, the little boy yelled back, “I can’t! My hands are full of shells.”

Sometimes we need to say no to good things in order to say yes to the best things. And if you want to lead a meaningful life, it will require the difficult but necessary skill of learning to distinguish between the starfish and the seashells.

Pastor Josh Meyer gives the Commencement Address to the Dock Mennonite Academy Class of 2021. Photo by Dock Academy.

Intentional and Insightful Fellowship

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In the light of the racially charged events of the past year, some members of Blooming Glen (PA) Mennonite Church studied Jemar Tisby’s book, How to Fight Racism: Courageous Christianity and the Journey Toward Racial Justice.  One of the ways Tisby suggests fighting racism is to visit with and learn from people of color.

Our book study group contacted Katie Gard, Development Director at Oxford Circle Christian Development Association (OCCDA), and asked if a group of us from Blooming Glen could listen and learn from our brothers and sisters of color, share a meal, and worship together. We wanted to embark on a learning trip. 

Members of Oxford Circle and Blooming Glen Mennonite Churches gather to talk and listen about race and prejudice on June 13, 2021. Photo provided by Mike Ford.

On June 13, twenty-one of us from Blooming Glen traveled to Oxford Circle (Philadelphia, PA) Mennonite Church. We spent hours listening, learning, and eating a delicious Colombian meal together. We engaged in intentional conversation to build understanding and gain a new perspective on the difficult topic of racism. We ended our visit by worshiping with the Oxford Circle congregation at their evening service.

Our experience was rich with opportunities to listen, learn, and grow and gave us lots to consider, such as …

  • Would you change your name to make your neighbors feel comfortable? You are a US citizen in the US, but your name is unfamiliar to the people around you. Would you change your name to one that sounds familiar to your environment? A person that we met at Oxford Circle changed their name for our comfort. How important is your name to your identity?
  • One Oxford Circle participant explained that as a child, they learned that there are three reasons why a white person would come into their community – to recruit kids to sell drugs, to use girls for sex, or to buy drugs. How distrustful and fearful of white people one might feel if those were your experiences? What messages or experiences inform our ideas about race? How can we help each other to put aside our fears?
  • If shots were fired in your neighborhood, would you call the police? If yes, how long would it take your local police to respond? For a person living near Oxford Circle, the police did not arrive until the next day. Is that your experience with the police?
  • If you were attacked and stabbed, how likely would it be that the police would interrogate your children? The police questioned a participant’s children, without an adult present, while they waited to be picked up from school and accused them of being part of the attack.  Further, the media misrepresented the facts about the attack. After this terrifying event, the victim reached out to offer forgiveness and reconciliation to the perpetrator’s family. Could you?

We learned how our brothers and sisters are following the way of Christ amidst persecution, prejudice, and violence.

Desiring to learn more about overcoming racism, 21 members from Blooming Glen Mennonite Church traveled to meet with members of Oxford Circle Mennonite Church in Philadelphia, PA. Photo provided by Mike Ford.

Together we courageously discussed the difficult topic of racism. Can Mosaic churches be beacons of Christ’s love amidst all of the division within us and around us? How can we take steps towards one another to build understanding and unity?

One Oxford Circle member shared, “I want you to love my color people as you love your neighbors, as you love yourself. If we loved each other as God asks us to do, we wouldn’t be having the issues we have in this world. Recognize and educate yourself. Spend quality time being part of the solution, and finally, PRAY.”

We are blessed with diversity in Mosaic Conference. Let us seek ways to build on the blessing of our diversity as we witness together.

Sleeping Uphill in Shame

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Like many children of my era, I not only shared a bedroom with my older brother, but we slept in the same bed.  The promised bunk beds, similar to the promise of chunky peanut butter, never materialized.  In our bed, there was a clear, imaginary line down the middle which, if crossed, was fair game for a brotherly punch.    

One particular night, we were doing a bit more than our usual messing around. I do not recall the exact details, but there was a loud snap that echoed through our room. We had broken the bed slat at the top of the bed. Living in a small ranch home, we were pretty sure Dad heard the commotion and would soon be appearing in our room.   

So, we did what many young men would do … as dad opened the door, our angelic faces rested on our pillows as if we had been sleeping for some time. Dad calmly asked if everything was ok and we quietly said yes. Dad closed the door.  

After Dad left, we quickly realized sleep was not going to happen. The problem was our bed was tilted with our heads low and our feet high.  As the younger brother, I was instructed to go tell Dad we needed some help. A few bricks solved our problem until the broken slat could be replaced.    

Randy Heacock (right) with his brother, Brad (left), with whom he shared a childhood bedroom, and their mother (center). Photo provided by Randy Heacock.

This is just one of many experiences in which my Dad’s calm demeanor, in the face of my foolishness, has shaped me. Fortunately, as a result, I find it easy to ask for help.  I treasure this as a true gift because I hear from many how hard it is to ask for help, admit need, or worse yet, name personal failure.  

Sometimes shame arises from the inability to admit our needs, desires, or failures. I have heard stories while serving at Doylestown Mennonite Church of the creativity, energy, and anxiety people expended to hide their family television from the bishop at one point in their lives.  A friend recently told me of a grandparent’s wedding ring that has been hidden in the family since 1922.    

I wonder how these experiences have shaped us to keep secrets and to bury our shame. There are layers of shame – as individuals, families, faith communities, and in our institutions. Our larger societal emphasis on public image only adds to this struggle. Often help is within reach, but we remain silent and even proclaim everything is just fine. Ironically, often our struggle is obvious to others … just like my dad knew we needed help with our bed but didn’t offer to help until we asked for it. 

I am reminded of the hymn, “The Love of God.”  One way to experience the great love described in the hymn is to name one’s needs before God. Sometimes we need to risk our fear of shame when we insist all is fine, while actually trying to sleep uphill on a broken bed. What transformations might happen in our lives, families, churches, and institutions if we begin to trust God with our needs, weaknesses, and failures? 

As you rest your head tonight on your pillow, when God asks is everything okay, how will you respond?   

Love Experiments and Give Us Our Daily Bread

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English translation by Andres Castillo

In this article we review some publications that were made on the Mosaic news page in the same spirit that has inspired our Spanish section, which is to build bridges between church members in the Mosaic Conference. 

LOVE EXPERIMENTS

Eloise Meneses wrote a review of the book recently published by Emily Ralph Servant entitled Experiments in Love. It’s a wonderfully evocative book, according to this review. Emily is an Anabaptist writer for the Anabaptist church in the second decade of the 21st century. She is a prophet of self-examination and transformation based on the need to “to reshape (perhaps remodel, or deconstruct) the theological stories told by church leaders, towards an emphasis on God’s own vulnerability and willingness to risk for us”.

In her book she makes a call to reevaluate the role of the church with the “outside world” and with people different from us; that role is also a relationship. The book is mostly aimed at traditional Anabaptist communities, but Hispanic communities may also process Emily’s words in their own ways. The book is written in English, and so the translation of this review is a source of theological and spiritual growth for our Hispanic communities

GIVE US OUR DAILY BREAD

I will write it as I originally thought: “if a life of faith is not also an aesthetic-artistic experience, then it is poorly focused.” That’s why Brooke Martin’s account on May 27 is deeply inspiring and rich. He has not so much written a metaphor as she has testified to how she immerses herself in Jesus when she kneads and bakes bread for her family.

She has turned to the prayer that Jesus taught us when he said, “Give us our daily bread.” It is a very sensitive and spiritual reference for Brooke when she bakes bread for her children. She does not bake daily, but reflects on and acknowledges the fact that we need the bread of Jesus daily, just as in the time of Jesus when baking bread was a daily necessity.

What I Think About as I Fall Asleep: Reflections on Being Mosaic

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Editor’s Note: Pastor Jacob Curtis wrote this reflection to his congregation, Ambler (PA) Mennonite Church, on June 30, after attending the candlelight prayer service in South Philadelphia. This is reprinted with his permission.  

On June 29, five of us from Ambler (PA) Mennonite Church made the hour-long trek down I-476/I-76/I-95 to Centro de Alabanza on the corner of 5th and Snyder in South Philly. We were there for a candlelight prayer service in solidarity with Asian Americans who are being targeted for hate crimes.

Photo by Hendy Matahelemual

The service was powerful. I’m still trying to figure out exactly how to describe what happened—in the service and inside me—but here are a few of the things I fell asleep thinking about:

1) It is such an honor to be part of Mosaic Mennonite Conference.

Honestly, I don’t know how a beautiful, fragile thing like our conference can exist in the world, or how we are allowed to be a part of it. But somehow—and I can only assume it is by the grace of God—we find ourselves in community with Swiss-German and Russian Mennonites, and also with everyone who’s been drawn to what they planted here in southeast Pennsylvania.

Our Conference includes churches like Franconia Mennonite, which built its first log meetinghouse in … oh, you know, 1748! … and churches like Nations Worship Center, which purchased its building from a catering business in an Italian neighborhood of South Philly in 2012.

We are Matahelemuals and Krisbiantos and Siahaans, as well as Yoders and Millers and Martins. And because of our Conference, we get to sit outside with all sorts of other Mennonites on the breezy, noisy, sunlit corner of 5th and Snyder, praying in all our languages to the living God.

2) Maybe there’s an opening here?

Ambler Mennonite Church is not (and never will be) Franconia Mennonite Church, with its history and its resources. Nor will we ever be Centro de Alabanza, located right in the middle of a densely-populated, diverse urban neighborhood. But might we become a little bit of both?

Might we grow into an identity as the part-city, part-country church? Might our congregation be black without being all black, brown without being all brown, white without being all white? Might we be the church where conservatives and progressives learn to respect each other and find a way through our cultural and theological gridlock? Might we lean into our particular spot on the map—just north of Philadelphia, just south of the old Mennonite heartland, an in-between place for a bunch of in-between people?

I don’t know. I don’t know exactly what God has in mind for us. And I don’t know what’s possible in the Borough of Ambler as it is now, getting rapidly younger and whiter and wealthier. But these are the things I think about as I fall asleep.

A Rabbi & Roman Guard: Life Questions for All

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Editor’s Note: On June 12, 2021, Pastor Josh Meyer, Mosaic Leadership Minister, gave the commencement address to the 2021 graduating class of Dock Mennonite Academy (Lansdale, PA). In the address, Meyer shared three stories with the graduates. The stories offered challenges and wisdom to the graduates on how to pursue a meaningful life. The stories are not just for high school graduates, but for us all. Beginning today, and continuing in the coming weeks, we will share one story each week from Meyer’s speech. Take some time to reflect on these short but poignant stories. 

There was an ancient Rabbi who was walking home late one night after attending a banquet in a neighboring village.  As he traveled, he came to a fork in the road.  If he turned right, the road would lead him back to his own village and his own home.  If he turned left, the road would lead him to a Roman military outpost.  It was dark and late and he ended up making the wrong turn.  He went left instead of right.  Before long he arrived at the Roman military outpost.   

As he approached, he heard a loud voice calling down from above.  It was a Roman Century Guard standing on the top of the wall. The guard shouted down, “Who are you?  What are you doing here?” 

The Rabbi stood in confused silence, trying to make sense of the situation.  When he gave no answer, the guard asked his questions again, “Who are you?  What are you doing here?”  

The Rabbi took a moment to gather his thoughts, but still gave no answer.   

For a third time, with greater volume and greater urgency, the guard repeated, “Who are you?  What are you doing here?” 

This time the Rabbi responded, not with an answer but with a question of his own.   

He shouted back into the dark, “How much do you get paid to ask me these questions?”   

Now it was the guard who was confused, unsure why this stranger would respond in such a way.  Nevertheless, he answered, “Five denarii per week.”   

The Rabbi shouted back, with great clarity and conviction, “I’ll pay you twice that amount to stand outside my house every morning and ask me those same two questions!”   

Pastor Josh Meyer gave the commencement address to the 2021 graduating class of Dock Mennonite Academy on June 12, 2021. Photo by Dock Academy.

Independence Day

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Cicadas have been a big deal in my Baltimore, MD neighborhood.  Ever since Brood X emerged in mid-May, they have dominated conversation in Facebook groups, in the checkout line at the grocery store, and between neighbors stopping on the (cicada-strewn) sidewalk to chat. 

Kstern, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Maryland is near the epicenter of the emergence in Washington, DC, and boy, are we aware of it.  One neighbor had so many cicadas in her yard that they hung like leaves from the bushes lining her walk.  Others couldn’t walk in their yards without a constant crunch, crunch underfoot.  Conversations outside were difficult and the incessant cicada song could be heard indoors, even with all the windows closed.  At its climax, the cicada song was like thousands of dentist drills going at once.  You couldn’t escape it. 

We spent weeks trying to convince our three-year-old that she could be scared and brave at the same time, that it was safe to go outside, that the cicadas were harmless (if just a little clumsy and annoying).  We covered our young bushes and trees with netting so that the cicada’s insistent egg-laying wouldn’t kill off too many branches on plants that were too young to survive that kind of massive pruning. 

For six weeks, we’ve had our eyes on the calendar.  The experts promised us that the cicada’s above-ground life cycle would wrap up by July the 4th. 

Our Cicada-Independence Day. 

In the last week, as the sound has died down and we have been able to walk in our yard without stowaways catching a ride on our clothes or hair, I have realized how much tension I had been carrying for the last couple of months. 

Photo by Scott Webb from Pexels

It wasn’t that the cicadas were dangerous or even extraordinarily disruptive.  But having them around meant being constantly on guard.  It meant having to think through and plan for what, before, had been simple or reflexive.  It meant living with constant noise, constant fear (for my daughter), and constant inconvenience. 

As we approach the Fourth of July weekend, I am aware that there are many families in my city who are still waiting for their own Independence Day.  And just like the constant dentist-drill song of the cicadas has worn me down, many families are exhausted just from trying to live life under the extra “noise” of systemic racism, violence, or unjust economic policies. 

Many of these encounters in and of themselves aren’t enough to wear someone down.  But when they’re concentrated on a minority of people, they can accumulate to do real harm—just like the excessive pruning of young bushes and trees by the cicadas.  It all adds up. 

As the adult cicadas are dying off here in Baltimore and their young ones are burrowing into the ground for another 17 years, I find my home and yard are becoming livable again.  But as I’m tempted to settle into my own peaceful space, God shakes me from my easy comfort and calls me to a new alertness—because none of us are free until all of us are free. 

This is the kind of [Independence Day] I’m after: to break the chains of injustice, get rid of exploitation in the workplace, free the oppressed, cancel debts….  If you get rid of unfair practices, quit blaming victims, quit gossiping about other people’s sins, if you are generous with the hungry and start giving yourselves to the down-and-out, your lives will begin to glow in the darkness, your shadowed lives will be bathed in sunlight… You’ll be known as those who can fix anything, restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate, make the community livable again.

Isaiah 58:6-12, MSG, italics added