Over the summer, I was asked if I would be willing to teach a Sunday School class at my church on grief and loss. I agreed without any hesitation. When I recently sat down with the pastor, I realized that she had titled the class, “Living and Dying Well.” I had been thinking a lot about resources for loss, but the change in name reoriented me; now I am pondering what it means to live well. I could probably change the name of the class, but I’ve always loved a good challenge and it seems to me that they’re equally important and equally difficult discussions in the Western world.

When I think of living well, I think of laughter, good meals, a nice bottle of wine, practicing resurrection, community that shapes and sustains. But I wanted to pose this question to each of you, as well. As you go about your daily lives, whatever your goals and whatever your place in the formal economy, what does it mean to live well? How does it incarnate itself for you?

Christarchy! is a growing network of people who want to put the teachings of Jesus into practice (living simply, caring for the poor, practicing hospitality, making peace, etc.) Jesus calls us to a revolutionary, transformational way of living life. He challenges the economic, political, social, and religious status quo. And we want to follow in his footsteps.

And from Mark’s email:

Why be a part of a Christarchy group? If you’ve ever wanted to go deeper into the practical implications of Jesus’ teachings but have felt alone or unsupported, Christarchy! is for you. Or perhaps you’ve taken some steps, and want to share what you’ve learned. Or maybe you’re curious, but don’t know where to begin?

We gather to explore how to live out Jesus’ radical way–the bold ethic displayed in the four Gospels. We believe that the Gospel is something to be embodied as well as proclaimed. Together, we are committed to exploring what it looks like to take Jesus’ teachings and actions seriously for our day.

1 And it came to pass that Jesus came to America, not in the way of Joseph Smith’s story; rather, he showed up at Chili’s in a Southern state. He was tired and hungry and wanted bread and wine. 2 When he discovered the wine available at Chili’s, he immediately left that place and went to a local restaurant with a better menu. 3 The place was frequented by many different people of various races and religions (some having no religion) and political leanings. 4 He sat at a table in the rear of the bar and ordered a red table wine (under $15) and a basket of bread. 5 After the server brought the bread and wine, she asked if she could get Jesus an appetizer or lunch. 6 “Nay,” Jesus replied. “But please, invite all the patrons to come have bread and wine with me.”

7 The servant girl was taken aback but did as Jesus requested. 8 Upon hearing the news, many of the patrons refused to go into the bar area of the restaurant for fear that they would become ritually unclean or because they mistranslated a verse in Thessalonians about abstaining from evil or because they thought Jesus was just testing their faith to see if they would actually drink something that they knew to be forbidden. 9 (They were possessors of the truth, after all.) 10 Some of the patrons did enter the bar, but when Jesus offered them bread and wine, they insisted on knowing the religious or political or sexual affiliations of the other diners before they would eat. 11 “It is my bread and my wine, and I may give it to whomsoever I choose,” Jesus explained. 12 “Nay, ’tis not true,” said the white, Christian, conservative Republican. “Only those people who have confessed you as Savior and Lord can take bread and wine with us.” 13 “Nay, ’tis equally untrue,” said the white, Catholic, moderate Democrat. “Only those people who are in the Communion of the Holy Roman Church may take bread and wine together.” 14 “I’m afraid I have to disagree with both of them,” said the goateed emergent church planter. “We should all sit down together and share bread and wine, and afterwards we’ll paint a picture about our experience.” 15 The lone black evangelical scoffed at the young emergent church planter. “Foolishness,” he said. “We can’t have bread and wine today because it isn’t the first Sunday of the month. Besides, we should be drinking grape juice. 16 “Amen!” Said the Baptist, the Nazarene, and the Pentecostal. 17 “Why are we even in here?” Asked the Baptist. “We should be in the restaurant, not in the bar.” 18 “Don’t be such a teetotaler,” said the white middle-aged Calvinist. “You’re here because God predestined you to be here so there is nothing you could have done about it anyway. I would like to know how many tulip petals you ascribe to before I drink with you though.” 19 “I’m not drinking,” the Baptist shouted. 20 “Amen!” Said the Nazarene. 21 “And I believe three of the tulip petals,” the Baptist said. 22 “That’s like being 3/5 pregnant,” said the Calvinist. 23 “I’ll take care of this,” said the political organizer. “I have experience working campaigns, so I’ll organize this meeting so that everyone can get what they want.” 24 “Whose campaign did you work?” The Pentecostal asked. 25 The organizer tossed out the name of a Democratic legislator. 26 “You’re pro-abortion!” The Pentecostal shouted. 27 “No, I’m a pro-life Democrat,” the organizer replied. 28 “No such thing,” said the Calvinist. “All ideas have consequences, so if you support the party, you’re supporting their platform.” 29 “Well you support the killing of innocent Iraqis,” the emergent church planter said. 30 A gay white liberal finally chimed in: “Aren’t we supposed to be taking communion with Jesus?” 31 All the other Christians looked horrified, but only the Baptist would speak what was on everyone’s mind. “We are not taking communion with a homosexual.” 32 “I would like to take communion with all of you,” Jesus said, but no one heard him. 33 He munched his bread in silence and had one glass of wine too many before going in search of a place to pray.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be Christian and be radical. We get a mix of the expected and unexpected answers on this blog–to be radical is to work for peace, to work for rights of the oppressed, to stay home instead of traveling abroad. Reading the post on “Covenantal Christians” inspired me to add another layer to this discussion: it is radical to love Christians with whom we disagree without any intent to convert or judge them.

I admire greatly those who participate here at YAR who are feeding the hungry, giving shelter to the homeless and visiting the prisoners. I fail at this much more than I succeed, and I am glad for those who continually inspire me and remind me what it means to follow Christ. That said, it makes me nervous when any Christian starts defining who is or who is not a part of the fold. It seems to me that ultimately, God is the only one who can know the extent of a person’s faith and action–and we’ve already got enough Christians in this world who are quick to determine who is saved and who is damned. And Christians, to borrow the words of Barbara Brown Taylor, never treat each other more badly than when they think they are defending God.

The church, as I understand it–and despite lots of evidence to the contrary, is supposed to be a place where the broken and imperfect gather, where we extend grace amidst great failure. None of who believe in the saving grace of God are yet where we will be, and I would challenge any Christian who thinks he or she is not continually in need of that grace. But to allow James Dobson and George W. Bush to define themselves as Christians–no matter how much I disagree with them–is to offer them the dignity I believe all of God’s creatures should have. What good are acts if we have not love? What good is believing any of this if it doesn’t include the possibility of transformation–a new earth and a new heaven–for all, whether rich or poor, powerful or powerless? Given the polarized state of the church today, selfless love seems to be an entirely radical proposition.

From Exodus 23, verses 2-9 (NRSV)

“You shall not follow a majority in wrongdoing; when you bear witness in a lawsuit, you shall not side with the majority so as to pervert justice; nor shall you be partial to the poor in a lawsuit. When you come upon your enemy’s ox or donkey going astray, you shall bring it back. When you see the donkey of the one who hates you lying under its burden and you would hold back from setting it free, you must help to set it free. You shall not pervert the justice due to your poor in their lawsuits. Keep far from a false charge, and do not kill the innocent and those in the right, for I will not acquit the guilty. You shall take no bribe, for a bribe blinds the officials and subverts the cause of those who are in the right. You shall not oppress the resident alien; you know the heart of an alien for you were aliens in the land of Egypt.”

The sermon was preached by Jane Hoober Peifer, pastor of Blossom Hill Mennonite Church, and it can be downloaded here. Thanks to Denver for uploading it for me.

The LORD said to Moses, “This applies to the Levites: Men twenty-five years old or more shall come to take part in the work at the tent of meeting, but at the age of fifty, they must retire from their regular service and work no longer. They may assist their brothers in performing their duties at the tent of meeting, but they themselves must not do the work. This, then, is how you are to assign the responsibilities of the Levites.” — Numbers 8:23-26 (TNIV)

Abortion is an incredibly complex topic; it’s never as simple as either side wants it to be. Even the words we use, how we chose to define ourselves, matters: pro-choice? Pro-life? Both phrases sort of rankle me. But I really want to know: how do we here at YAR feel about abortion? Since I’m asking you all to perhaps make yourself vulnerable, it’s only polite of me to go first.

I’m a big propnent of the consistent life ethic. War, capital punishment, abortion, euthanasia, poverty, and racism are all troubling, and all something which threaten life and that which is life-giving. But I count myself as neither pro-life or pro-choice. Abortion is, for me–to borrow from Feminists for Life–a sign that we’ve failed women. Simply legislating it won’t change much, because wealthy women will be able to travel elsewhere to get abortions and less wealthy women will revert to poorly trained doctors on the street or worse. If we really want to stop abortion, then we have to figure out what causes women to get abortions and why, and from that perspective, affordable housing, universal healthcare and childcare support all matter. We have to care about the child both before and after its birth.

I think we begin by holding each life dear every time, but I’m cautious, too, because life is a lot more ambiguous than a lot of us would like to make it. That said, I’m genuinely interested in what you all think–and I won’t think less of you if you chose to thoughtfully disagree with me.

“Empire is about stability. The church is about movement . . . If it becomes stable, it looks like empire after awhile.”

“I am convinced that it is going to be a struggle for those of us who are Euro-American . . . to figure out how to live in a future that doesn’t look like us anymore. We are going to struggle with privilege and responsibility, we are going to struggle with issues of understanding culturally.”

“I have great hope, I am greatly afraid, and I have trouble sleeping.”

“We’re not trying to say, ‘This is the way church should be,’ but it’s exciting and energizing to me to begin to address the issue that church isn’t working for a lot of people. So what do we do with that as believers? How do we make this work for more people?”

“We want to create and foster community . . . Kind of past last names, but actually real community. How that’s done is kind of a work in progress.”

“We still care about being intergenerational, because we do have a wealth of deep experience and knowledge in all our generations. Even though people like me like to … criticize tradition, we still have to respect and listen to all the wisdom of the people that have gone through this before us.”

“Everybody is a minister. We all have different kinds of callings and gifts… Everybody [should be] ministering in their own ways, and most times it should be outside of the church.”

“You only get out of church what you bring in.”

“Some of those criticisms [of the church] are certainly valid, and we should pay attention to that, but we can’t be focusing on all the problems, because we’re never going to arrive and have the perfect church.”

“Is church Sunday morning or is church what we do together?”

“The church needs to be engaging the culture, engaging the way they’re communicating, whether that’s the internet—so that we don’t just pretend that those things aren’t there.”

“The church is pulled in seemingly two different directions: One is the desire to grow deeply in relationship with each other. And the other is to welcome anyone and everyone and grow in that way. For good relationships to be fostered, they take time. And they take intentionality.”

“The kingdom is now, and Christ is already at work.”

“One of the things that my group keeps coming back to is how hard it is to foster a community and intimacy when you see each other for three hours once a week and most of it is just you sitting beside each other. If we can get into each other’s lives on a day-to-day basis, that intimacy would just follow us.”

“Church is a really ambiguous term that we use for a lot of things. It can be a noun, it can be a verb… If we make church something that we do, and not something that we go to, that community is fostered a lot more.”

“One of the biggest things we can do is let our congregations know that we care, and that we want to be the church now, and that we want to be the future and that we want to work with them to create something meaningful.”

“If we want the church to change, we just have to change ourselves.”

“I’m encouraged, deeply encouraged, by the interest and the excitement and the inspiration and time the young adults who are here and invested and ready to explore the church and that is invigorating to a pastor who’s been in the saddle for a little while. It’s really exciting to see you being ready to explore what all this means. And also for the excitement that I see in imagining what new forms and ways church might be expressed. And I don’t think that detracts from what has been, and that doesn’t mean that what has been is wrong at all, because it’s the vehicle by which all of us come to this place.”

“It’s sometimes hard to think outside of the box when you are the box.”

“The church will not change, the church will not fulfill what God intends for it without people who lead it who also love it as it is.”

“Christianity should be less of a religion, and more of a way of life.”

“I’m really excited that you’re a little bit annoyed, and that you’re not enamored… A little bit of frustration is actually what we need from you.”

Robert Lipsyte, writing in The Nation, makes several correlations between Christianity and football, including sainthood and the variety of ways in which it is experienced:

Given the chance, I’d watch the Super Bowl with the Rev. Jerry Falwell, who knows about Baal and ball. Twenty years ago, in Lynchburg, Virginia, at a Liberty University Flames game, Dr. Falwell told me: “Jesus was no sissy. He was tough, he was a he-man. If he played football, you’d be slow getting up after he tackled you.”

He had me at “sissy.” The rest was revelation. The muscularity of Dr. Falwell’s evangelical Christianity was a perfect fit with football, another win-or-lose game. For Americans, war hasn’t produced a real winner for more than 60 years. That’s why we need football. But let’s get back to Dr. Falwell. “My respect for Catholicism and Mormonism goes straight up watching Notre Dame and Brigham Young play,” he told me. He hoped that, someday, Notre Dame and Liberty, his evangelical college, would meet for the national championship, thus informing the nation that “the Christians are here, we’re not meek and we’re not going to fall down in front of you. We’re here to stay.”

While we wait for his Holy Bowl to show us how to kick the other cheek, we do have the gospels, saints, and rituals of the Super Bowl, arguably the holiest day of the American calendar. Nothing in sports draws us together as surely–not elections, the Academy Awards, disasters, terrorist acts, or celebrity deaths. The Super Bowl is a melting pot hot enough for atheists, Sodomites, and Teletubbies to become one with the Saved, if only for a single Sunday. But that’s a start.

You can find the rest of the article here. Enjoy the game.

In the last few months, I’ve posted some information about a developing networking project aimed at helping Mennonite young adults (a generally transient group) to better connect with each other and with the broader church. We’re starting with a group on Facebook (yes, Facebook) and exploring the idea of a web site, as well. If you have a Facebook page, come find us, and if you don’t, just know that you no longer need an email address with “.edu” in it to sign up for Facebook. We have no idea where it will go, but the project is building on the frustration of talking so much about issues within the church without any tangible ways to address those frustrations. We’re trying.

The first article, found here, is entitled “At the End of Ethnic Mennonite Life” and is by Michael King himself. It touches on the cultural expressions of Mennonite faith versus the spiritual practices and the tension sometimes inherent in that.

The second article is entitled “Cultural Agoraphobia: Why Young Postmodern Mennonites Struggle to Follow or Lead,” by David Landis. He writes of the incredible number of options available to young adults and how quickly it can overwhelm, saying “The trick to countering this paralysis is to name the power we have in a way that allows us to trust ourselves and others as leaders. Although this seems like an obvious statement, it’s one I have seen Mennonites and sometimes other Christians hesitant to embrace. Postmodern culture’s default setting seems to be doing a good job at encouraging engagement, but it doesn’t seem to be naturally promoting empowerment.”

To all of you, wherever you are and whoever you are, young or old, may the coming year be a year of growth, of challenges, of opportunities. As you celebrate the birth of Christ and enter into the new year, may you find yourself discomforted in ways that move you to work for peace in your own life and in the world. May the light of Christ shine within you and among you. May you find God in unexpected places.

First of all, as our society as become increasingly individualistic, I think it’s become too easy to get away from the stuff of church. I’ve become less a fan of the “priesthood of all believers” mentality lately–and this is the same critique theologians have of the Anabaptist/Baptist strand of theology–because to some extent, it allows people to think that whatever they’re doing in their church that feels right must be right, and then to act accordingly. (Unlike the Catholic, Orthodox or even Amish traditions, which have a much broader sense of what constitutes “the church.”) The church is made up of humans, so it’s going to be messy, and I don’t think people are always prepared for what that means. So if there’s a conflict over new carpet, or the denominational position on homosexuality is getting too liberal, it’s really easy to find a new church or make a new church where things are much more black and white.

Second observation, particularly as it relates to young adults: The pew theology in Mennonite churches seems to be, “God is nice, and we should be nice, too.” We’ve lost much of the distinctiveness of Mennonite identity, and while I’m in no way advocating for a return to head coverings for women, the fact is that as we’ve lost those things we haven’t done a great job of simultaneously telling the stories and passing on the whys of our theology. I see many churches actively pursuing growth and outreach, and in an attempt to be welcoming, downplaying the most of what distinguishes us from the rest of Christianity. But the most thriving (Mennonite) churches I know of are also the ones which have the most marked Mennonite identity and theology. They may or may not have a lot of members who were raised in the Mennonite church, but they’ve found very distinct ways to affirm what they believe and how they can carry it out. Many of the members actually work in jobs which underscore what they believe as Christians and as Mennonites. They’re churches which have found ways to thoughtfully and meaningfully engage the world around them, to demonstrate faith lived.

I couldn’t answer the question with any real assuredness, but I’d be interested in hearing the opinions of others. The posts in the past week have been really interesting, and looking at the questions of who we’ve been and we are, for me, also begs the question, “Who will we be?” What do we want the future to look like, and how do we start shaping that now?

As has been the case in many countries I’ve visited, the Vietnamese knew the history of the United States fairly well, perhaps better than the average American. They knew the United States that included George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, and the Declaration of Independence. (In fact, the first line of Ho Chi Minh’s Vietnamese Declaration of Indpendence, written in 1945, was taken from the American version.)

The poet Langston Hughes, an African-American born in 1902, writes of this America in his poem, “Let America Be America Again”–

Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

Hughes knew of the America of liberty, of freedom, of equality, but he added, “(America never was America to me.)”

I was reminded of the lines to this poem a few days ago, when I found myself sitting on my parents’ living room floor, absorbed in a discussion about the results of the election which turned into a conversation about race and racism in the United States. I was pleased with the election results for various reasons; mostly, it seems as though government (at least ours) is least effective when all branches are controlled by the same party. High voter turnout in a mid-term election has restored some of my faith in the American populace. Unseating six incumbent Senators is also significant, since, as someone once pointed out, incumbents are harder to get rid of than a cockroach infestation in the kitchen. I was a little skeptical about having Nancy Pelosi as the Speaker of the House, but so far, she’s saying the right things, promising to work hard at bipartisanship and encouraging moderates within the Democratic Party. Without putting too much faith in the political system, I feel more hopeful now than I did after the last election.

“O, let America be America again,” penned Hughes, with words that echo my own sentiments. “The land that has never been yet– And yet must be– “

Elections are about three weeks away, and I haven’t decided whether or not I should vote. I just moved to this area a few months ago and I don’t know much about local politics, but I am familiar with the U.S. congressman from this area, and I’m not impressed with him.

I spent three years in Washington, D.C. working in politics and advocacy. My work there made me painfully aware of how U.S. policies affect the rest of the world. I’ve had numerous people tell me, in countries ranging from Vietnam to Colombia, that while they had no say in how the United States government functioned, I did, and would I please go back and talk with lawmakers and tell them about the havoc being wreaked around the globe? I tried.

I left my job increasingly convinced, though, that real transformation will never come through worldly structures. I have friends who agree with me, and try to dissuade others from voting, feeling that Americans put too much faith in the government to make things better.

When I worked in D.C., I tried to encourage people to be politically involved. I told them that one vote—or one passionate advocate—can make a difference. But I also try to take seriously the arguments of people like John Roth.

Are you planning to participate in the upcoming election? Why or why not? Should I? Here’s your chance to weigh in. Vote early and often.

“This was the guilt of your sister Sodom: she and her daughters had pride, excess of food, and prosperous ease, but did not aid the poor and needy. They were haughty, and did abominable things before me; therefore I removed them when I saw it” (emphasis added).

I personally know (and respect) two of the members of the MCUSA board, so I need to tread somewhat carefully here, but I’m still not convinced that a new building worth $6 million (the rest will cover operating costs) is the best way to go. One option which was considered by MCUSA was renovating an existing building at a lesser cost. I’ll grant that there aren’t many buildings in Elkhart County which would likely meet the needs of MCUSA and MMN, but in conversations with others who know, I’d guess the price tag would be signficantly lower than $6 million — maybe as low as $500,000.

I just have to ask (and I’d extend the same question to any church considering a building campaign, as well): what kind of message does this send to Mennonites around the world? Say, Mennonites in Zimbabwe? Or how about the community in Nicaragua where my cousin is living, where during the dry season women have to collect water from wells several kilometers outside of the town?

But here’s the real issue for me: With the exception of Mennonite Central Committee, not one Mennonite agency is growing right now. Some of them are remaining stable in terms of money coming in, but what happens if lowered giving on the part of the consituency isn’t just a lull, but rather a trend? It’s impossible to tell whether five or ten years down the road MCUSA and MMN will need as much space as they need now.

Stewardship isn’t just a personal issue. And more isn’t always better; sometimes it’s just more.

Walter Rauschenbusch, A Theology for the Social Gospel, 1917.