Mosaic Mennonites

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We’re fit, prayerful, and we stick together

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Phoenix prayer walkby Emily Ralph, eralphservant@mosaicmennonites.org

As we neared the park, the police officer guiding our prayer walk through the streets of Phoenix thanked Mennonite Church USA’s leaders for allowing her to participate in the event.  “Many groups string out and lag behind,” she said, “But you guys stick together, you’re fit, and you’re prayerful.  You’ve made my day.”

Her words produced a chuckle that toasty summer evening, but I’ve continued to chew on them as I’ve accompanied Elizabeth Soto Albrecht on the last two weeks of her cross-country journey to visit Mennonite Church USA congregations.

We have visited congregations who gather three or four times a week for prayer meetings, congregations who participate in acts of civil disobedience, congregations who march in parades, who hold community fairs and weekly laundry outreaches, who open their facilities to the homeless, who wrestle with Scripture and sometimes one another.

We met leaders who speak Spanish, English, Indonesian, French, Vietnamese, German, Creole, and Garifuna.  We worshiped with congregations who sang out of hymnbooks, who sang off the wall, who sang from memory.  We prayed with our hands lifted in the air, in silent moments of meditation, and on awkward but delightful walks through city streets.  We had conversations with people who are concerned about the future of Mennonite Church USA, with people who are excited about it, and with people who didn’t even know they belonged to Mennonite Church USA.

In some ways, the police officer’s observations are a reflection of who we want to be, who we are on our best day.  We’re fit, active, working to bring about God’s reign on earth.  We’re prayerful, throwing ourselves and our hopes and dreams on the mercy of a faithful, just, and loving God.  We stick together, knowing that faith must happen in community, even when members of that community don’t agree with or even like one another.

On our journey, Elizabeth has often reminded congregations that our denomination is only 12 years old.  Like most preteens, we’re still trying to figure out who we are, how we should behave.  The next few years, our teen years, will show us what we’re made of as we face increasingly difficult and potentially divisive issues.  Will we stay fit and prayerful?  Will we stick together?  Will our neighbors, like the police officer, want to participate in what God is doing in our midst?

Maybe her words were less an observation and more a prophetic word on that final evening of Convention.  Maybe our prayer walk was less for the people of Phoenix and more for ourselves, a symbolic act that marked the transition between what has been and what could be.  Maybe it was an act of hope, of promise, a way of assuring ourselves, even as we worry and doubt, that with some cold water, exercise, and plenty of prayer, we can stick together.  Even in the Arizona heat.

We see ourselves

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Gutsy women
Elizabeth Soto Albrecht and Patty Shelly ask Phoenix delegates if they are ready for two women to lead Mennonite Church USA. Photo by Emily Ralph.

I would have told you that I didn’t need a woman leading our denomination.

I would have been wrong.

When Elizabeth Soto Albrecht was given her charge as moderator of Mennonite Church USA on July 5, I felt a thrill run through me.  We had been on the road for a week at that point and I wondered, “Is this what a campaign worker feels like when she sees her candidate take the oath of office?”

A few moments later, Elizabeth and Patty Shelly, the moderator-elect, stood before the delegate body and asked, “Are you ready for two women to lead Mennonite Church USA?”  The crowd applauded and I almost bounced up and down with excitement.

Where was this coming from?  There have been other women who have served as moderator, although most of them were before I was involved enough to be aware.  Why was Elizabeth’s appointment so special for me?

In our first trip together, Elizabeth and I traveled to New York City.  As we ate dinner with a Mennonite pastor in Brooklyn, his face lit up.  “This is an important day,” he said.  “For years, we urban Mennonites have been looking at our leadership, looking for a face we recognize.”  And now, with Elizabeth as the first Latina moderator of Mennonite Church USA, they finally looked to their leadership and saw themselves.

Everywhere we have traveled so far, Elizabeth has been greeted with enthusiasm and warmth.  But when we visit Hispanic congregations, something is different; the energy in the air is palpable, the prayer is fervent.  These congregations sent her to Phoenix in the same way that God sent prophets to Israel: as one individual representing something greater than herself.

I knew this was the case; I have even explained to others on a number of occasions how important Elizabeth’s appointment is to the Hispanic community.  Until the moment when she received her charge, however, it was just knowledge.  In that moment, I felt a dawning awareness of how personal that identification could be: This is what it feels like to look at the moderator and see myself.

When I told my spiritual director that I was going to be traveling with Elizabeth this summer, she laughed.  “That’s one gutsy woman,” she said.  Then she stopped and looked at me.  “But you like gutsy women.”

It’s true.  I do like gutsy women.  And my heart’s desire is that I will be one.

To all the gutsy women who have challenged the status quo, battled through sexism, engaged the hard questions, bridged cultures and theologies and relationships, and sacrificed for the good of the wider church, thank you.  May you more and more often look to our leadership and see a reflection of yourselves.  And may our children and grandchildren look to our leadership and see you.

Taste and see

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Meridianby Emily Ralph, eralphservant@mosaicmennonites.org

Sitting at the kitchen table, savoring a vegetarian groundnut stew with Catherine and Michael and their two boys, I listen as they describe the racist direction of recent laws passed by the North Carolina legislature.  Christians in their community have mobilized, joining weekly protests and acts of civil disobedience.  The members of their small congregation in Chapel Hill continue to wrestle with their response as people of privilege in the midst of overwhelming injustice.

I taste.

Juanita’s eyes twinkle as she greets us at the door of her congregation’s meetinghouse in Apopka, Florida and leads us to the banquet table.  “Everything is homemade from scratch–my husband said the house smelled like Christmas this morning!” she laughs.  “It is like Christmas, because we’re going to celebrate!”  MC USA’s first Latina moderator is visiting Juanita’s congregation, and they are beaming with excitement as they urge her to fill her plate, present her with gifts, anoint her with oil, cover her with prayers.

It is good.

Elaine cooks one-hour grits (no instant here!).  The time it takes to prepare that staple of the American south reflects the relaxed pace of life in Meridian, Mississippi.  Church leaders serve themselves from a counter laden with southern goodies surrounding a vase of brown-eyed Susans and settle in for a chat around a table that seems to stretch on forever.  Their communities are struggling with an economic depression, outbreaks of violence, and rampant alcoholism.  Yet their stories show that, in the midst of this brokenness, church is a refuge, a companion.  Native Americans from the Seminole and Choctaw tribes worship alongside Anglo and Latino/a brothers and sisters, a sign of hope and reconciliation.

I taste.

With outstretched hands, four pastors in Dallas lead their congregations in prayer over our new moderator, a cacophony of intercession and praise to a God who cares for the orphan, the widow, and the “alien” among us.  Their delight overflows into a time of fellowship after the service as they gather in the parking lot to laugh and drink arroz con leche.  The sky darkens, but the conversation continues for hours.

It is good.

Each stop on our journey is too brief, but each face, each language, each food brings out another flavor of God, reminding us that the God who made us all is more than the idol we’ve built in our own image.  Each encounter is an invitation to taste and see that the Lord is good.

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Emily is traveling with Elizabeth Soto Albrecht, the new moderator of Mennonite Church USA, on a three-week journey around the country.  

The vision sounds different

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by Emily Ralph, associate director of communication

Primera Iglesia Menonita de Brooklyn
Elizabeth Soto Albrecht prays with two pastors who are struggling through immigration issues. Photo by Emily Ralph

Admittedly, I’ve not been a huge fan of Mennonite Church USA’s vision statement.  It’s felt cliché as we’ve reiterated a utopic collection of Anglo American Mennonites’ favorite words strung into a sequence.

This past weekend, as I accompanied Elizabeth Soto Albrecht, Mennonite Church USA moderator-elect, to worship with Mennonite congregations in New York City, I realized something.

Our vision sounds different in Spanish.

It’s not just that the words sound different, although they do.  The meaning of the words takes on new depth when it’s being said by men and women who are faced with oppression, racism, anger, and uncertainty; nice words become a challenge to live like Jesus in the midst of struggle.

At Primera Iglesia Menonita in Brooklyn, immigration advocates gathered downstairs to connect immigrants with resources and an immigration lawyer guided them through the massive paperwork maze needed to achieve adequate documentation.  Upstairs, the congregation worshiped a faithful God who cares for widows, orphans, and “aliens” and shared their own stories of fleeing persecution, enduring economic oppression, and struggling to keep their families together.

How do we let la esperanza de Dios fluyan a través when we are paid less than minimum wage and when we watch helplessly as our families are needlessly deported?

At Garifuna Iglesia Menonita in Harlem, members of the American Garifuna community (people from Honduras, Belize, Nicaragua, and Guatemala of African descent) worshiped enthusiastically in Spanish and Garifuna accompanied by four sets of drums, flowing back and forth between languages as fluidly as the call and response of their leaders and congregation.

How do we grow as comunidades de gracia, gozo y paz when people tell us to “go back where we came from” or when simply walking the streets might lead to a stop and frisk from the New York Police?

At Iglesia Menonita Unida de Avivamiento in Brooklyn, where we said the vision together in Spanish, one of the congregation’s pastors sat across from Elizabeth over dinner and said, “Those of us in urban churches have been looking at our denomination’s leadership for a long time, waiting for someone we recognize.  This is a historic moment.”  It is a moment that could lead to la sanidad de Dios.

I’m beginning to realize that healing sounds different in Spanish.  And that true healing and hope also move us toward a new understanding of God’s justice, “that flows like a mighty stream.”

“God calls us to be followers of Jesus Christ, and by the power of the Holy Spirit,
to grow as communities of grace, joy and peace,
so that God’s healing and hope flow through us to the world.”

“Dios nos llama a ser seguidores de Jesucristo, y por el poder del Espíritu Santo,
a crecer como comunidades de gracia, gozo y paz,
para que la sanidad y la esperanza de Dios fluyan a través de nosotros al mundo.”

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Emily is accompanying Elizabeth Soto Albrecht on her Journey to Phoenix this summer. 

God knows why we won’t go to Phoenix

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Steve Krissby Steve Kriss, Philadelphia Praise Center (reposted from Mennonite World Review, by permission)

My church is made up of immigrants and migrants. We are political refugees. We have arrived here because of economic realities. We’ve been granted religious asylum. We’ve come to Philadelphia to find ourselves, to find flourishing space. We all landed in the City of Brotherly Love and Sisterly Compassion for different reasons, and we’ve become the largest Mennonite Church USA congregation in the city.

This summer, though, we won’t be going to Phoenix to join with other Mennonites to discern and fellowship. We’re staying home from the MC USA convention because we’re honoring those among us who are undocumented and would risk too much in making the trip to Arizona. We know that bearing witness this summer is important, but we won’t put our most vulnerable members at risk by traveling there.

While other churches in our denomination wonder what it might be like to break the law to assist the undocumented, we have no question about our call to ministry. We know that Jesus ministered to those who were on the outside. We know that in taking that call seriously we must live in grace and recognize that our community of Mennonites includes both the legally documented and those who are underdocumented in the eyes of the law. We know that God knows our statuses and names, can count the hairs on our head and extends to us all the grace of daily bread.

Over much of our congregation’s history, placards up front in our worship space have called for immigration reform. They are underneath our cross, behind our pulpit and next to our drums. This call for justice is interwoven into the life of our congregation and our existence as a community. We are not insiders or outsiders based on our citizenship. We are a community of people who have decided to journey together as Mennonites in the very locale where the Mennonite seed took root in this hemisphere.

We applaud and seek to support the efforts of churches that take the issues of immigration seriously. Immigration reform will happen when the hearts of citizens change. We celebrate all that will be learned at Phoenix for those who attend. We hope the hearts of all in our churches will continue to be touched by the complexity of the situation and the simplicity of grace. I hope that somehow in this journey to Phoenix we’ll realize that immigrants — documented or undocumented — aren’t outsiders in our Anabaptist/Mennonite communities.

The journey to Arizona invites all of us to reflect on our own stories of migration. For many of us, a journey’s purity is polished in the retelling. We have not all landed on these shores willingly, legally or peaceably. The reasons for migration and the outgrowth of those realities are just as complicated now as when the streams of Swiss/ German/Dutch Mennonites made their way into colonial Pennsylvania — where Africans were being sold on auction blocks along the shore, ripped and trafficked from their homes across the Atlantic.

Early Anabaptists followed the invitation of the Spirit toward witness — knowing that at times it required actions that were contrary to the law and that risked relational harmony. This summer at Philly Praise and in other MC USA congregations across the country, our absence at Phoenix will be a witness to our denomination.

As we journey and seek first God’s sovereignty, may we also discover the breadth of God’s love and re-encounter the Spirit that binds us together across language, ethnicity, culture and status, inviting us all to be redefined under Christ.

Who makes the grass turn green?

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menolanby Monica Bauman, Camp Men-O-Lan

Spring is here! And along with the change in season, I often find myself refreshed and excited about the “newness” that nature once again graces us with.

This year, however, I realized that I have taken it for granted and have forgotten the wonder and the excitement of little growth around us. Leave it to my son, recently adopted from Jamaica, to remind me.

I was cooking in the kitchen when he came running into the house and grabbed me by the arm. When I asked him what was wrong, he didn’t know how to explain it and instead pulled me by the sleeve outside.

He pointed to a bush.  “What’s that?” he asked.  “Why does the bush have those green things coming out of it?”

I took a deep breath and realized that he was experiencing, for the first time in his life, the growth that spring brings. I explained, “It’s spring time! It’s getting warm so the trees are starting to grow leaves, the grass is going to turn green, and the bushes and plants will grow flowers!”

My son looked at me. “Who makes it do this?”

And to that, I answered, “God. Only God can create such beautiful growth in his creation.”

Thank you Lord for such an amazing reminder to slow down, examine the growth around me, and to remember You, the Creator.

Giving God our best: The Resurrection

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Beny Krisbiantoby Beny Krisbianto, Nations Worship (with Emily Ralph)

God sent His only SON, HIS BEST to come to this earth to save us. He never intended to send the second or third best from heaven to redeem us. He didn’t send angels or prophets to die for us—he sent his son! God ALWAYS gives us THE BEST.

What about us? How do we respond to God’s gift?  Are we committed to follow Christ in life?  We are not left to live this way alone—just as Christ was raised from the dead, we, too, have the power of the resurrected Christ in us.

These are just some of the ways that Franconia Conference congregations have given God their best, witnessing to the power of the resurrection in the last year:

“So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up.  So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.” (Galatians 6:9-10, NRSV)

On this great Easter weekend, as we celebrate the triumph of Christ’s resurrection, I want to encourage every single one of us to always give our best to God in everything that we do.  Christ is Risen!

Entering into grace: The Cross

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Noah Kolbby Noah Kolb, Plains

At a gathering of church leaders at camp Men-O-Lan in the early 70’s, I heard Gerald Studer (then pastor of Plains Mennonite) say something like: “If I were the only person living on earth, God so loved the world that he would have sent Jesus to die for me.”

As a teenager I was never sure I was good enough to take communion. I knew I did not live up to the expectations of the church community, nor of the Scriptures so I always took communion  with much anxiety and guilt. I lacked an understanding of the grace of God and of my own self-worth. All my being and doing good didn’t achieve the peace and confidence I was taught or hoped for.

After years of college and seminary training I came to discover in a much fuller way the meaning of Christ’s death. Intellectually, I understood God’s grace and mercy. I could preach with passion and conviction that “God so loved the world that he gave his only son, that whoever believed in him would not perish, but have eternal life.” I owned it, but did not enter into it fully in my inner being.

Holy week was a rich time for me. I enjoyed leading my congregation through what were often high times in our life together. Yet deep within me was this haunting uneasiness about how this incredible love of God reached my needs. Why would God love me to this degree? With all of my goodness on the surface which people could see, I was still a rebel inside, driven with selfishness and insecurities.

At one point in my early years of ministry I was wrestling with the question of how God could offer total forgiveness and hold nothing against me. How could I be fully his beloved son? I had no sudden epiphany, but the grace of God slowly overwhelmed me over several weeks and months. It had something to do with my self-worth and my being able to forgive and receive forgiveness. My view of God began to change from that of a judge who stood over me to a God who had high expectation but was gracious and understanding and forgiving. I began to hear the loving and welcoming voice of a God who was with me at all times. I was more gracious with myself. I found myself extending grace to others. If God could love and forgive the rascal and phony I was at times, I could do the same.

After 40 years of ministry, I enter another Holy Week eagerly anticipating the week’s events, Thursday evening at the last super and Friday evening at the cross. Yes, I am drawn into deep awareness of my own brokenness and the grace of God extended to me. Even more, though, I am now aware that Christ died for the whole world. Because of the grace of the Lord Jesus toward me, I am freed by His Spirit to extend grace and forgiveness to others; God’s mercy extended to me through the death of Jesus now flows on as I extend that mercy to others.

I am keenly aware of my brothers and sisters around me. I am aware of strained relationships and unresponsiveness to need. I know that I enter more fully into the grace of God as I am more fully in a gracious relationship with other believers.

When I stand by the cross this Holy Week, I will stand in and by the grace of God.  For I know that going deeper into the grace and love of God is related to extending more grace and mercy to others. As I weep because of my times of betrayal, may I also weep for the brokenness of others. As I enter into God’s mercy and forgiveness, may I also release others by grace to experience mercy and grace in God’s Kingdom of Love.