Mosaic Mennonites

Missional - Intercultural - Formational

Holy Week

The Israelites, Haiti, and the Lamb of God

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by Sam Charles

The narrative of the Israelites’ enslavement in Egypt is one of the most compelling and well-known stories in the Bible. It resonates profoundly with Haiti’s history, when we consider the Haitian people’s subjugation by the French in what was then called the colony of Saint Domingue. Just like the Israelites were forced to live in slavery for centuries, the Haitian people also suffered under harsh conditions.  

The Israelites found themselves in a state of desolation and despair, with no human hope for escaping their situation any hope for escaping oppression (c.f. Frame, 2013). When they cried out to God, God listened and intervened, delivering them from the oppressive forces. This deliverance is a testament to the Lord’s benevolence, responsiveness to his people’s needs, and faithfulness to his promises. 

One of the most important parts of this story is the slaughter of a lamb. The Israelites were told by God through Moses to kill a lamb and spread its blood on the sides and tops of their doorframes. This act protected them from the final plague in Egypt. The lamb, which had to be a year old and without defects, symbolized innocence and purity. This sacrifice wasn’t just about physical protection—it also marked the beginning of their journey to spiritual, social, and political liberation (c.f. Exodus 12:1–14). 

This paschal lamb served as a prototype for Jesus Christ, who was cruelly executed on the cross. Jesus selflessly sacrificed his life to bear the sins of humanity and take upon himself the burden of our collective guilt. 

The prophet Isaiah said, “But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him and by his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:5, NIV).  

This assertion may seem perplexing or contradictory. It suggests that Jesus’ wounds, his suffering and death can heal our inner pain—our guilt, shame, and moral failures. Yet, we recognize Jesus as the Lamb of God, who through his death, facilitated the spiritual liberation of all who believe in him. John 1:29 says,” Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world”. (NIV) 

Happy Passover! 

Samuel Charles

Samuel Charles is the pastor of Bethel Worship and Teaching Center in Levittown, PA and a member of Mosaic’s Intercultural Committee.

Mosaic values two-way communication and encourages our constituents to respond with feedback, questions, or encouragement. To share your thoughts or send a message to the author(s), contact us at communication@mosaicmennonites.org. 

Holy Week in America as Strangers and Aliens

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by Stephen Kriss

“Are you a US citizen?” 

“Yes.” 

“Travel safe and have a good night.” 

On the highway between San Antonio and Harlingen, there’s a border checkpoint. I’ve driven through this checkpoint before and been stopped and checked thoroughly. This time I was asked a simple question and invited to keep it moving under the setting Texas sun. I had flown into San Antonio and driven to visit with two former South Central Mennonite Conference congregations near the border who are seeking membership in Mosaic. 

Since the beginning of the year, I have spent significant work time navigating the changing immigration landscape. This has included paying attention to the vulnerability of the hundreds of persons in Mosaic Conference congregations who are not yet citizens of the USA. They are from dozens of countries. They have a variety of visas and statuses. Our growth as a conference has largely been comprised of 1st and 2nd generation immigrants. With the rapid changes in immigration enforcement, sometimes menacing rhetoric, and traumatizing stories told by the media, recent immigrants are on high alert. 

According to recent research, one out of 18 members of evangelical churches in the U.S. are at risk or are household members of those at risk of deportation based on the current enforcement practices and policies. Many recent immigrants are Christian. The reality of shared faith binds us together in ways that should complicate our thinking as Jesus followers living in the U.S. 

The future of U.S. Christianity relies on the vibrant faith of recent immigrants who are establishing new churches, renovating older church facilities, and bringing authenticity and global-mindedness to our ongoing faith expression and practices. 

As Anabaptists, we have a sensitive history with migration. Our Conference readily traces our story to the migrations of German-speaking families to Philadelphia almost 400 years ago. While we could rely on the invitation of William Penn for our settling (at least sometimes), we didn’t have the permission of the Lenape who we settled alongside.   

We maintained for generations a set of distinct identities while the U.S. American experiment played out over the next centuries. Historic Mennonites are now a deeply embedded part of the American story, having reaped the benefits of citizenship and land holding, capitalism and mutuality for generations.   

My citizenship is both a privilege of birth and a responsibility. Privileges are not meant only for my individual good. I can easily pass through a checkpoint with my light skin, blue eyes, and graying hair. As a son of Appalachia and of Slovak immigrants, I recognize that while all our individual decisions can have consequences, our privileges do too. 

For those of us who proclaim the reconciling love of Jesus in a broken and beautiful world, in this holy week can join Jesus as he weeps over Jerusalem. We can find ourselves in the story of Jesus’ Passion, as the disciples earnest in their desire to see the kingdom come in the ways that would restore Israel’s greatness. We can see our own betrayal of Jesus embodied in Judas and in Peter. We can join again in faithful and disoriented weeping with the Marys and Salome. 

And we can prepare for the surprise and ultimate hope of resurrection that brings us true freedom. In duty, we join the women at the tomb with a sense of dread and responsibility. As we wait, we may find ourselves surprised and overcome in the ways the Spirit shows up.   

We speak of the possibility of what we know and have seen. We find others who come running with us (like Peter and John) to find out that resurrection power is still living among us as we face these days with eyes wide open. And we say these words again in the midst of fear and in the midst of hope for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all. 

Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed. Even in America. 

Stephen Kriss

Stephen Kriss is the Executive Minister of Mosaic Conference.

Mosaic values two-way communication and encourages our constituents to respond with feedback, questions, or encouragement. To contact Stephen Kriss, please email skriss@mosaicmennonites.org.

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.

Holding joy and sadness in tension: The Lord's Supper

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by Gwen Groff, Bethany

Gwen GroffAt Bethany we share communion at least three times each year. Our first communion service is in January when we renew our annual membership covenant with each other. Our system of membership at Bethany is an odd hybrid. We can become members by taking a membership class and being baptized or by transferring a letter of membership from another congregation, and we can become members by annually affirming our covenant with this congregation. When we renew our membership covenant each January, affirming that we intend to walk with this particular group of people and uphold our commitments to what we state in our covenant, we mark this by celebrating communion together.

This is one of the times that I most feel the difference between the Mennonite congregation in which I grew up and the Mennonite congregation of which I am now a part. I grew up seeing communion as a very somber service in which people wore dark clothes and often wept. I recall preparatory services the week before the communion services in which members filed into a small anteroom and shook hands with the bishop and declared that we were “at peace with God and our fellow men.” Members were warned not to eat and drink “unworthily,” thereby eating and drinking “damnation unto himself.”

By comparison, our communion services at Bethany feel very open, perhaps even lax. I invite people to come forward to receive the bread and cup with the words, “This is the Lord’s table and all are welcome.” I do not ask if someone has been baptized or is a church member. This seems not very Anabaptist. It does however seem to be in keeping with what Jesus did in sharing the table with anyone who wanted to eat with him.

The Bethany communion service that I most enjoy is part of our annual outdoor service. Each summer I mow a labyrinth into the grass in the back lawn and at our outdoor service we take the bread and cup just before we begin walking the the labyrinth together. We walk into the middle of the labyrinth in silence, pause in the center circle, and come back out again. Some people look into the faces of others they pass going the opposite direction, some look down, some are chewing the bread, many are barefoot. Some children are held in their parents’ arms. Most of the children enter the labyrinth at the front of the line and run to the center ahead of the adults. There they receive a spoken blessing from one of the servers, “You are known and loved by God,” and are given grapes and crackers. They run or walk back out, passing the adults who are still on their way in. The adults walk more slowly and contemplatively.

I usually take the bread and cup to the older people who are unable to walk the labyrinth and are seated on the grass that is slightly higher than the labyrinth. I love to look out across the people walking and see our congregation moving as one, like a giant organism on the grass. Sometimes we are a little crowded as we walk but we have not outgrown the practical limits of this ritual. The service is full of laughter and reflection, movement and epiphanies. If the labyrinth symbolizes our spiritual path, the bread and cup represent nourishment for the journey.

Our other communion celebration is part of our Good Friday service. This communion meal seems to be most in the spirit of the first Last Supper. It holds together the joy of the Passover celebration, remembering liberation from slavery, with the grief of the looming death of Jesus.  It focuses on the stated purpose of communion — doing this in remembrance of Jesus — reminding us of his life, death and resurrection. The service is virtually the same every year. We eat a simple meal together in the church basement on Good Friday evening. We read aloud the Passion account from one of the gospels, we sing, we serve one another the bread and cup, and we leave in silence.

I value something about each of these three services. In the January communion service, I appreciate the emphasis on our covenanted commitment to God and one another. I appreciate the symbolism of nourishment for our faith journeys that is part of the summer communion service. And I appreciate the remembrance of the first Lord’s supper that is part of our Good Friday service. What I love about all of them is the way the communion ritual holds in tension joy and sadness. Words can’t make sense of that paradox, “proclaiming the Lord’s death.” But ritual does.

Walking together on the road to Easter

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by Emily Ralph, eralphservant@mosaicmennonites.org

It’s a familiar story, especially for those who have grown up in the church.  So how do we retell the story of Jesus’ passion and resurrection year after year in ways that open us up, once again, to the pain, the beauty, and the wonder of Jesus’ sacrifice and victory over death?

dove scripture picture
Members at Souderton congregation contributed artwork made of scripture. Photo provided.

The season of Lent, celebrated for the forty days leading up to Easter, marks Christ’s journey to Jerusalem.  It invites those who follow Jesus to walk with him by remembering his life, practicing disciplines of fasting and sacrifice, and engaging in deeper commitment to their brothers and sisters in the church.

Souderton (Pa.) congregation began Lent by diving deeper into Mennonite Church USA’s “Year of the Bible” with an art project.  Members of the congregation were invited to choose a word or phrase from scripture on which they wanted to meditate and to write it over and over on a panel using colors to create images.  These panels became banners that hung in the front of their sanctuary during the Lenten season.

Souderton wasn’t the only congregation to celebrate the imaginative Spirit.  Swamp (Quakertown, Pa.) spent Lent exploring God as creator, “littering” the steps of their platform with items created by members of the congregation, symbols of God’s unique creative work in them.  Their children memorized Psalm 139, which they recited on Palm Sunday after leading the entire congregation in a procession, joyfully waving palm branches.

Plains maps
Plains congregation used maps to illustrate their prayers for their region, country, and world. Photo by Dawn Ranck.

Palm Sunday marked the beginning of Holy Week and was the day when Jesus entered Jerusalem to the adoration of the crowds.  The week soon turned more somber, however, as Jesus ate his final meal with his disciples, washing their feet, and predicting his betrayal.  These events are remembered on Maundy Thursday.

Conference congregations reenacted Christ’s humility with their own experiences of footwashing.  Traditionally, Mennonites have practiced footwashing in groups divided by gender.  At Perkiomenville (Pa.) congregation this year, footwashing was one of several stations that members could visit, which, for the first time, allowed married couples or family members to wash each other’s feet.

Good Friday vigil
Franconia Conference members joined Christians from all over the Philadelphia region for a Good Friday vigil outside a gun shop. Photo by Jim McIntire.

In addition to footwashing, Plains (Hatfield, Pa.) congregation acted out Christ’s care and humility by setting up prayer stations with large maps of the world, the country, and their region.  Members could pray for and mark areas on each map with a dot or a heart.

Compassion for the community continued to spread into Good Friday, the day when followers of Jesus remember his death on the cross.  Members of churches all over the Philadelphia region gathered outside a gun shop in the city for a Good Friday vigil.  As these believers stood against violence in the city, others gathered in Good Friday services to remember that Jesus’ death made peace and reconciliation with God, and one another, possible.

Salford power outage
Salford congregation spent part of its Good Friday service in the dark, thanks to an unexpected power outage. Photo by Emily Ralph

Just when Good Friday seemed like it couldn’t get any darker, Salford (Harleysville, Pa.) congregation’s evening service was suddenly interrupted by a power outage.  For just a few, brief moments the congregation was surprised by the darkness and powerless to do anything but sit in the shadow of the cross.

There was a hush in Franconia Conference on the Saturday of Holy Week, as though the Church was holding its breath, waiting for the joy they knew was coming on Easter morning.

And the joy did come—in colors and flowers, in song and story, in food and hope and promise.  Crosses were draped in white and lilies and hyacinths and forsythia decorated sanctuaries.  Congregations met as the sun rose, around breakfast tables, and in their morning services to celebrate an empty tomb.

Philadelphia Praise Center viewed a video in which church members took to the city streets to ask people about the significance of Easter.  Blooming Glen (Pa.) congregation acted out the resurrection story in a chilly sunrise service and a member at Deep Run East (Perkasie, Pa.) built a custom tomb to display on Easter morning. In Vermont, members of Bethany congregation participated in an ecumenical sunrise service on the side of Mt Killington and then, after brunch, were led in worship by a new generation of storytellers–their children.

It’s a familiar story, and yet it’s born fresh each year as we once again walk with Jesus through Lent, Holy Week, and the Easter season.  In this story, we recognize what theologian H.S. Bender once wrote: we live on the resurrection side of the cross.  May we continue to celebrate Christ’s resurrection by living our lives as a resurrected people.

He is risen: He is risen indeed!

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