HOUSTON MENNONITE CHURCH

As the longest war in US history enters its 11th year on October 6, it’s time to say “Enough!” War, as Martin Luther King Jr said, is “an enemy of the poor” and has brought us to the worst economic decline in nearly 100 years. As I’ve said earlier, “We’re scheduled to spend $113 Billion in Afghanistan in 2011 alone, good money we don’t have that could easily be used for good causes here at home. We’ve also lost over 1500 service men and women, with 10,000 wounded.”  Military Spending in Context pointed out that “the United States will spend more on the war in Afghanistan this year, adjusting for inflation, than we spent on the Revolutionary War, the War of 1812, the Mexican-American War, the Civil War and the Spanish-American War combined.” When it comes to war I say: Enough!

But the war, the deaths, the occupation and exploitation, all come marching home again. Martin Luther King Jr. went out of his way to connect poverty with war. On April 4, 1967 he said in his speech From Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break Silence :

There is at the outset a very obvious and almost facile connection between the war in Vietnam and the struggle I, and others, have been waging in America. A few years ago there was a shining moment in that struggle. It seemed as if there was a real promise of hope for the poor — both black and white — through the poverty program. There were experiments, hopes, new beginnings. Then came the buildup in Vietnam and I watched the program broken and eviscerated as if it were some idle political plaything of a society gone mad on war, and I knew that America would never invest the necessary funds or energies in rehabilitation of its poor so long as adventures like Vietnam continued to draw men and skills and money like some demonic destructive suction tube. So I was increasingly compelled to see the war as an enemy of the poor and to attack it as such.

War is not just an enemy of the poor, but a catalyst of poverty, both at home and abroad. Republican President Eisenhower famously said, “Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and not clothed.” By those standards, there is an ever-growing number of folks we’re stealing from every day. The corporate greed which has seen skyrocketing salaries for the uber-rich while resources are cut from our most vulnerable is a catastrophic moral failure. The outrageous waste of money, resources, fuel and human work hours on the arms race is an industrial and creative crisis. And the channeling of poor families into the military to fight wars they do not support and did not have a say in is wrong. When it comes to neglect, demonization, and creation of the poor I say: Enough!

In his article about the World Council of Church’s efforts to wage a just peace in place of the obsolete Just War theory, Andre Gingerich Stoner urges “Christians to stop building, training with or paying for these weapons.” Sunday was “World Communion Sunday,” a day Christians orient ourselves to the global body of Christ which demands a higher allegiance than we give to any nation state. Christ’s church has no walls, no borders, and no military. And her members live radically different lives than those whose concepts of “sovereignty” are limited to governments. As one Protestant Reformer said, ““The Prince of Peace is Jesus Christ. We who were formerly no people at all, and who knew of no peace, are now called to be a church of peace. True Christians do not know vengeance. They are the children of peace. Their hearts overflow with peace. Their mouths speak peace, and they walk in the way of peace.” When it comes to Christian support of Obama’s “Good War,” I say: Enough!

Enough of war; enough of poverty; enough militaristic christianity.

This is not the only possible way to live. It’s how we’re choosing to live today. Will we choose it for another 10 years?

We certainly don’t have to. Join me in waging peace, not war, and share in following:

• We will repent for ways we have contributed to this war
• We will pray for peace, justice and reconciliation
• We will renew our commitment to teach peace to every generation and to provide youth with meaningful alternatives to military service
• We will encourage and call people from our congregations to serve on Christian Peacemaker Team delegations around the world
• We will offer our support to local military personnel and their families as they deal with the trauma of this war
• We will reach out in friendship to local Muslims
• We will join our voices with many other people of faith who are calling for our national leaders to end the U.S. military presence in Afghanistan, recognizing that such visibility is fueling a growing insurgency movement and adding to the daily suffering of ordinary Afghani’s.

Enough of war! It’s time to wage peace.

Let me tell you why debate audiences who cheer the death penalty frighten me.

On January 5, 1527 the first Protestant reformer was killed by state-sponsored, church-approved authorities under what they believed to be “God’s will.” Felix Manz was the first of more than 25,000 Protestant martyrs known as Anabaptists (Mennonites are Anabaptists), drowned in the Limmat River in Zurich by Christians who claimed to base their entire faith one being “justified by faith alone.”  That same year, King Ferdinand declared drowning (called the third baptism) “the best antidote to Anabaptism” (a pejorative title that simply means “Re-baptism”). Michael Sattler and many others were not, however, lucky enough to die by drowning. The sentence against him read, “Michael Sattler shall be committed to the executioner. The latter shall take him to the square and there first cut out his tongue, and then forge him fast to a wagon and there with glowing iron tongs twice tear pieces from his body, then on the way to the site of execution five times more as above and then burn his body to powder as an arch-heretic.”

As my spiritual ancestors were killed by the thousands, they sang songs of praise and pleaded with their audiences to put their trust in God, all in the midst of cheers for their death. The angry chants for blood are reminiscent of ancient Roman chants for death in the Colosseum. The links between church and state are as valid to discuss now as then. I share these examples precisely because how absurd they sound on our American ears, so used to ecumenism and the religious diversity of our time. Sure, we disagree about doctrine and worship practices, but we sure as hell don’t kill each other anymore for them. We’ve all grown up a bit, haven’t we?

But here’s the thing: their executions were perfectly legal! Laws dating back over a thousand years prohibited re-baptism at the pain of death. Was it legal? Yes! Was it moral? Absolutely not. Was it “Christian”? Undeniably no. 20/20 hindsight proves the absurdity of practicing state sponsored killing for heresy. Jesus proved the absurdity of killing adulterers in John 8:7, teaching us what once was considered a just cause for execution can and should be modified over time. After all, the Hebrew Scriptures demand execution for a surprising number of offenses, most of which we would recoil from in horror, not stand up and applaud. For instance: adultery, lying about your virginity(Deut 22:20-21), blasphemy(Lev 24:14-16,23), breaking the Sabbath(Ex 31:14, Numb 15:32-36), and evangelism (Deut 13:1-11, 18:20) are all just causes for executions.  By these standards, Jesus was guilty as charged, his execution being perfectly legal. No wonder the crowds cheered!

So last week, and last night, when the GOP debate audiences cheered Governor Rick Perry’s execution record which today will increase to 235, I got scared. Scared because we’ve gotten it so wrong in the past. Scared because the church has never really gotten it right. We’ve so often been on the wrong side of the death penalty, supporting death in ways that today are clearly understood to be 100% incongruous with our faith. Like when my people were killed over the form of baptism, or when countless Jews were killed in the Inquisition because their commitment to God was too strong to be swayed by evangelism-by-sword, or when the German church worshipped God on Sunday’s then “rendered to Caesar” by executing millions of innocents during the week (it’s a marvelous thing to note that Germany has not executed anyone since WW2, having rightly learned the lessons of abuse of power).

When, dear readers, have we ever gotten it right? Perry’s claim that he’s gotten it right 100% of the time is perhaps (though unlikely) correct; but his absolute certainty is shameful and lacks historic precedent. Exploding in applause at the mention of such a widespread and unexamined  death machine is counter to both history and moral health.

Today I stand with history on the side of caution and humility against the state-sponsored, church-approved executions of Steven Woods (today), Duane Buck (Thursday), Cleve Foster (next Tuesday), and Lawrence Brewer (next Wednesday). The abolition of the Texas death penalty is inevitable. Either we will choose to stand for the humane treatment of all people (guilty or not), or we will, like everyone before us (see Germany post-WW2) make mistakes so horrendous and innumerable we will be forced to repent and change our policy. Either way, this absurd cycle of violence will come to an end.

Here I stand, remembering history. As a follower of one whose blood was shed by state-sponsored, religion-approved executions, I have no other choice. Dear God, forgive us for killing guilty people like your Son Jesus, Felix Manz and Michael Sattler, Steven, Duane, Cleve and Lawrence. I pray they come to know the grace and peace that comes only through knowing you. May their victims family’s be free from hate to know the peace of Christ which surpasses all understanding. May we learn from our past mistakes and stand with history against the death penalty. Jesus, executed and now risen, have mercy on us! AMEN.

Anyone who is without sin, feel free to pull that lever.

I have it from a reliable source it’s okay for me to say the following sentence out loud (and actually mean it): “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.”

 I spent the last 3 days at a local FaithWalking Retreat trying to excavate why that’s true. I learned there are multiple ways to define “being fully human” and that Jesus is the best definition from Jim, how our thoughts about God affect our prayer life from Trisha, how the Psalms call us to be open to God from Sue (my mom!), how being in control displaces God from the throne from Steve, and how hard ministry can be on a pastor’s family from Karen. I even learned a lot from Bruce Willis the movie star, who showed up Tuesday night to teach us how our past wounds can significantly limit our ability to be radically obedient to God.

Conversation with myself, by Lorry Acott-Fowler

 But I learned the most in conversations with myself. Certainly not because I was the smartest person in the room: far from it! That was how the retreat was designed: with cycles of input, solitude, and small group sharing. Questions and journals guided my conversation, and prayer bathed it, but the time was mine to grab my shovel and start digging. Why can’t I do what I want? What holds me back? Why are things like total obedience to Jesus, full transparency in prayer, believing I’m worthy of love so hard? Am I more interested in obedience or just looking good?

As someone called and employed to talk to others, I was surprisingly out of practice with talking to myself. But my FaithWalking guides opened up safe space to talk, learn, and dig. The picture to the right, passed on to me last month by my spiritual director, sums up well my experience: it’s appropriately called Conversations with myself.  Paul, the author of the sentence I quoted above, goes on to say “it happens so regularly it’s predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God’s commands, but its pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge (Romans 7 in The Message).” The retreat was an opportunity for me to sit down with several covert rebels and invite them to come into the light and give control to God.

That Paul was authentic with his Roman friends gives us permission to be open with each other in the same way. The good news and the bad news about that is this: I’m not sure we as citizens of planet earth can be transformed in any other way. Genuine personal transformation (the kind our HMC mission statement says we’re all about) doesn’t happen by stumbling upon more information. I don’t think it’s come for you in the 150 or so sermons I’ve preached or the 150 or so sermons I’ll preach in the coming years. How could it, when we put our one hour worship service up against the Goliath of western mammon-culture which demands unconditional allegiance and obedience?

The times in my own life I’ve experienced accelerated spiritual growth and transformation have all happened digging deeply into conversations with myself in the context of loving community. Not Sunday School, not sermons, not incurring huge debts to attend seminary, not guilt inducing condemnation for failed morality. It comes when I open myself to a process of personal transformation. Then, and only then, can I be the follower of Christ I hunger for so deeply. Then, and only then, will we as a congregation be “Transformed by God to Transform the World.” To the degree we have all found this at Houston Mennonite- I give thinks. To the degree we haven’t- I vow to embrace a more holistic vision of discipleship and personal transformation for individuals and our congregation.

I’m gracious to have gone FaithWalking this week as my love of Jesus and the mission of God deepened immeasurably. But more than anything, I give thanks for the conversations I had with a guy named Marty, who, as it turns out, had a lot to teach me after all.

It’s hard to be different. “Dork,” “geek,” and “loser” are the schoolyard terms meant to reign in those who are different. Clothes, gadgets, language, skin color, religion, sexuality all make it hard to be unique. Our culture gives lip service to being unique and authentic, but only tends to enforce sameness.

But it’s even harder to be hated as different. Take for instance the recent story of a Christian gay man receiving death threats from another attendee at a Christian denominational gathering. Can you imagine clinging to God in prayer through this scenario? This can’t be easy. Or imagine how you would feel as the minority religion in a country and told over and again you are not worthy, you are not loved, you need to leave, and you are hated for who you are. Given the comments on Young American Muslim’s blog, it’s clear many still love to hate those who are different.  

I’m fascinated by the spirituality of these people, people our culture calls ‘the damned.”And by all people who have been set aside: victims of abuse, rape, violence, oppression, wage theft, harrassment, etc…  How do they survive? How do the oppressed embrace “God loves you” when everyone screams “God hates you and so do I!”? How do they cultivate a spirituality of resistance and transformation? What sustains that fish while swimming against the flow? How does spirituality for the dominant differ from spirituality for the different?

I’m living into this question in three ways right now.

First, a growing awareness that Jesus was oppressed and ministered to the oppressed. Howard Thurman, speaking within the black church context, says in Jesus and the Disinherited,  “The basic fact is that Christianity as it was born in the mind of this Jewish teacher and thinker appears as a technique of survival for the oppressed.” This view is echoed everywhere Christians find themselves oppressed (such as in the birth of Latin American Liberation Theology). As someone who lives within dominant culture (white, male, educated, wealthy, Christian) this has been a deeply powerful new insight.

Second, a growing call to focus more of my own pastoral energies on marginalized communities. In an earlier post I talked about certain groups our world ostracizes, marginalizes, and demonizes, what I called The Community of the Damned. But I’ve not been equipped with a spirituality that can sustain minorities, the poor, victims of abuse, or those ostracized because of race, ethnicity, sexual orientation or religion. Like Bart Compolo says in his latest blog, “Being poor is hard work,” and I want to know and experience a spirituality that will sustain the lives of those who are poor.

Third, My own experience blogging as The Peace Pastor has reminded me again that my own faith tradition is clearly “different” and can make it hard for Anabaptists and Mennonites like myself to want to publicly proclaim the good news of Peace. Here’s some of what I’ve received for proclaiming a third way:

• Helen says  ”you don’t deserve the privilege of living in this country.”
• El Machete says, “you are a yellow bellied coward who hides behind his religion.”
• Pdh42 says, “you (IMO) know nothing about the Bible with all of your communist social justice garbage that you preach.”
• True believer called Christian pacifists “silly people” and my blog a “waste of space.”
• Carpenter says that pursuing peace is “unrealistic and even dangerous.”

In other words, to be a Christian peacemaker makes one a dork, geek, and a loser. This experience has demanded a refurbished spirituality (one fellow blogger called it “thick skin”) that I am still growing into. Thankfully, I’m reminded Jesus’ original disciples didn’t get this overnight, so there’s still room for my growth. Core pieces of an oppressed spirituality seem to be fixation on the person and humanity of Jesus, belief in God’s abiding presence within us, deep longing prayer, genuine community, honesty about systems and power, an assertion that the world is not as it should be, and a vision of the world as God intends for it to be.

The vision for this blog is to proclaim the whole gospel of Jesus in a context which marginalizes Jesus, justice, and holistic faith. Dominant Christian culture (and its inertia/energy) doesn’t always energize the comprehensive vision of doing justice, loving neighbor, God and self; often it will oppose this voice. Thus the Christian’s pursuit of peace happens in the midst of pressure to narrow our voice. Likewise, dominant secular culture may be open to the quest for justice, but find our insistence on keeping Jesus at the center of our work and words baffling, if not stifling. For this reason, small intentional Christian communities are essential in developing people who can live the life of Jesus in our world. Likewise, introduction to a “missional” or just spirituality has also proved essential for overcoming my blocks to following Jesus and sustaining my call to live a life of just Christianity.  

If you are different, or oppressed, how has your spirituality sustained you? How have you witnessed spirituality give life to communities who are marginalized, victimized, or oppressed? What are the songs, texts, stories and rituals that energize marginalized communities to be faithful to God in a world that is not?

DEAR WORLD:

It’s understandable if you don’t think that we in the church understand you, “get you,” or even like you. After all, you see our Summit-sized buildings, soaring steeples, SUV filled parking lots scattered around our city while Christians lead the fight to eradicate social services that you need to live. With looming budget cuts for schools essential for your children’s wholeness and health, Texas’ Christians instead deemed as “emergencies” legislative agenda you perhaps thought was ridiculously off-task. I would understand if you didn’t think Christians didn’t like you if you are new to the area and came without papers, or if you were born with an “unnacceptable” sexual orientation; because many don’t like you.

As the world rages in turmoil & violence, struggles over limited resources and massive changes in weather patterns, unemployment and foreclosures, we in the church might appear not to notice. Take for instance what my fellow blogger Ken Chitwood points out in his blog this week: that some Christians have decided the core issue we need to catalyze our resources around and work diligently to pursue is whether or not heaven and hell exist. Important, sure. But perhaps, if we listened to you, we would hear this is not the most helpful use of our time.

For all this and more, ”We’re sorry.” We haven’t been there for you when you needed help in the messiness of life. You needed a ride to the doctor and we were splitting theological hairs. Your son is scared now that daddy is back from Iraq, lashing out in anger and fright at the slightest sound; and we needed to know who was right. Undocumented, you live in an immigrant community riddled with crime but don’t feel safe calling our police; and we’re concerned about how many chances you’ll get to “receive Jesus” after you die before our god sends you to hell. You’re living in hell as a victim of human trafficking held against your will and forced to perform unspeakable duties here in Houston, the nations slavery capital; but we wonder aloud if your hell will continue after you die.

I apologize. Please forgive us. This is not the way we are supposed to be. You see, our leader and namesake, Jesus Christ, would understand you if he were here. He would “get” that you are ostracized and feel bullied. He would know if the choices you’ve made, even if they are illegal or unethical at times, were the best thing you knew to do to put food on your kids table. He would understand how bad it feels to be passed by on the street and not noticed. He would totally understand you if you told him your religious leaders weren’t there for you.

And, he would like you. A lot. He wouldn’t waste your time with the afterlife when you are consumed with making it in this life. He talked a lot about love. Loving ourselves, loving our neighbors, and even loving our enemies. He’s pretty good at that. I’m sorry you don’t always experience us, his followers, in the same way. His vision of the world and we humans in it was that everyone would have enough: enough food, enough stuff, enough community and love. Perhaps if we were better at loving you like he asked, it would make more sense when we invite you to love God. Our most important book says that “God loved the world,” and I deeply hope you know God’s love whether you feel love from Jesus’ followers or not. 

If you need anything, let us know.

Sincerely,
A follower of Jesus

The following is a reflection on the Mennonite Church USA Convention theme and key verse (2 Corinthians 5:16-21):
I love my city. I love Houston’s ridiculously hubristic skyline, our underperforming sports teams, our gargantuan flyovers and 20-lane highways, our farmers markets, our bayous and museums, and our longing to be a “real” city.

I love our food. In my neighborhood alone you can find world class Thai, Polish, Mexican, Korean and Salvadoran food. I walk my family to a little Churro booth that holds its own against anything at Mennonite relief sales.

And I love our diversity. Houston’s four million people have no majority population and Houston is home to 325 different people groups. When our family first moved to Houston I remember going to the play-land at a local mall and counting no less than eight languages being spoken by the children there. 

Yes, moving to Houston has helped me to fall in love with diversity. But too often, rather than celebrating diversity, Christians allow it to divide and separate us. High profile cases of Christians judging others who are different (like the Florida pastor who burned a Koran; or the Kansas church known for protesting funerals) or who believe differently (the outrage among Christians towards pastor Rob Bell’s thoughts on hell) or who act differently (homosexuality) embarrass me by how far off the mark they are. Race, legal status, wealth, politics, and faith divide us.

But reconciliation is at the heart of the gospel.

In word and lifestyle Jesus draws his community together, breaking down the boundaries that divide. Drawing on Isaiah’s vision of the peaceable kingdom (11:6-9 & 65:25), he calls his followers to be makers of peace (Matthew 5:9) rather than judgment and discord (Matthew 7:1), and gives us specific instructions on how to pull it off (Matthew 18:15-20). Leave your worship behind, he says, and go be reconciled to your neighbor – it’s that important (Matthew 5:16-26). It’s also controversial enough he’s almost killed (Luke 4:24-30) just for mentioning the possibility of reconciliation with an outsider.

So how have Jesus’ followers done in emulating his example? The first generation of believers did smashingly well! Paul in particular sees reconciliation at the center of the Christian life, declaring we have been “given the ministry of reconciliation… So we are ambassadors for Christ (2 Corinthians 5:18,20).”

Likewise, the next generation embraced this ministry of reconciliation. One late second century pastor said Christians “Love all men, and by all men are persecuted… They are reviled, and yet they bless; when they are affronted, they still pay due respect (section 5 of The Epistle to Diognetus).” They were clearly working for the good of all by valuing relationships more than being “right.”

But what about Jesus’ followers today? Is this, my Mennonite friends, how we are known? Are we the glue that binds, or the scissors that divide?

We as Mennonites and as Mennonite churches have a marvelous opportunity to regain that reputation for being reconcilers committed to the dignity and respect of all persons and cultures. Peace, reconciliation, conflict transformation is in our blood. Jesus is our DNA.

As ambassadors of reconciliation (racial, religious, political, economic), our call is very different from civil ambassadors, who work to impose the will of the dominant party on fringe groups. No, our call is the reconciliation of all groups to each other and to God. It is to share one story, one identity in the midst of diversity. Our call is to love, and to empower others to do likewise.

How is God calling you to build relationship in your neighborhood or workplace? As an ambassador for reconciliation, what resources do you need to love, overcome barriers, and stand with those different than yourself? Is there someone in particular that you need to be reconciled to today? Wouldn’t it be great if we Christians were known not for our exclusivity, but for our ability to “love the stranger as you love yourself”?

To all members in our denomination of beautiful multicultural diversity: “Be ambassadors for reconciliation.” Perhaps our political leaders don’t believe in diversity of cultures, but our God does. Love your city, your neighbor, your co-worker, your enemy and everyone you meet. If you do, you’ll be “the justice of God (2 Corinthians 5:21)”!