Who do you kill for a living?

The call for other authors on this blog is getting more urgent, since I'm taking 16 hours of class and working up to 25 hours a week and acting in a play.

Discuss: Is it wrong for a Brethren person to work in a liquor store, selling cigarettes, alcohol and (worst of all) lottery tickets?

Love your enemies: an activist's stance

“You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor[h] and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you: Love your enemies[i] and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Are not even the tax collectors doing that? And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even pagans do that? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” - Matthew 5:43-48

Often only a small snippet of that is quoted, which is fine, because it makes the same point as the whole passage. I’m just really partial to the whole thing.

In March of 2007, I attended a protest against the Iraq war organized by Valpo students in Indianapolis. Frankly, I found the whole thing appalling. I find that I often do not identify with the more vocal components of the anti-war movement, because sometimes it feels they’ve taken the issue of the war and turned it into a war right here at home. Those who oppose the war are our allies, and those who support it - and those who perpetrate it - are our enemies.

At this particular protest, a representative of the womens’ advocacy group Code Pink stood up and told what I can only call lies about our president. Maybe she believed them, but I didn’t - if George Bush were stumbling through the White House in drunken fits and and calling his wife “the C-word” in front of the White House Press Corps, we’d know about it. The media certainly has no bias against sensationalism.

But what really got to me was a war veteran and current professor (of communications, I think) who was sort of MC’ing the event. At one point, he started off on a rant about how he’s against the idea of impeaching President Bush and Vice-President Cheney, because it lets them off the hook. “I don’t want them impeached,” he bellowed, “I want them prosecuted! I want them to spend the rest of their natural lives in a jail cell!” The fact that impeachment does, in fact, mean prosecution (and not removal from office, as he seemed to believe) aside, I was struck by the tone of anger and vengeance that was seeping into this protest.

I did not act; I watched myself act. I saw myself turn from where I’d been standing, with my back to the protest, holding a sign with the name of an Indiana native who’d been killed so that it was visible to traffic passing through the circle. I saw myself walk to an open area in front of the angry man, drop to my knees, and pray.

Your peace, your love, your forgiveness, your mercy….

I posted this reflection on the Young Anabaptist Radicals blog some time ago about my arrest at an anti-war demonstration last year. Recently, the blog administrator e-mailed me to alert me to a comment he’d deleted, due to name-calling and profanity. It essentially lauded me for my actions and had some harsh things to say about the arresting officers, and about police in general.

First, I want to say that the police officers who collected us from the federal building and drove us to central booking were the absolute epitome of civility. The one who drove James and me even expressed some support for our position, though coupled with doubts about our chosen method of expression, and they removed our handcuffs before procedure really permitted it because they could see that we were not a threat. I have no complaint whatsoever against these officers, and would object to any harsh words spoken against them.

I cannot provide the same level of praise for the U.S. Marshals or the Sheriff’s deputy in the court house, but I will say this: All of them did their jobs. They may not have been warm and fuzzy towards us, but I feel that, had they been, it would be the exception. As a former Resident Assistant, I understand a little of the need for detached formality and established dominance when dealing with a “deviant,” and that’s what we were. Nobody can be expected to walk that line perfectly, and while that might leave us some complaint against the power differentials set up by the law enforcement system, I don’t feel that we should cast officers of the law as our enemies or slur them with personal attacks for what, most of the time, really just amounted to being professional.

But the officers’ actions here aren’t really relevant to my point. If this story is made to be about the injustice, perceived or real, of my arrest, then the true point of my action is lost. If the punchline becomes a jumble of harsh feelings towards the police, then the real crime goes uncorrected. My battle is not against George W. Bush and Dick Cheney, or against Richard Lugar and the United States Marshals. My battle is against the evil of violence that can take hold in every human heart, including my own. If I cast people as my enemies, then I have allowed that evil to take hold of me, warping my cause into a point of division and hate.

“Love your enemies” wasn’t just aimed at the masterminds behind the Iraq war: it applies to those of us who oppose it, too. “End the war” isn’t the ethic, it’s the realization of it - and that ethic is love. Our actions must be rooted in love or we will lose sight of our goals and be dragged down into the same quagmire of opposition and retribution that we profess to oppose, and even a total political victory will come at the cost of a moral defeat. I do not believe that the end justifies the means: our actions must reflect the spirit of the world we wish to see, or that world will dance forever outside of our grasp.

Coming home

Since I asked Nadine to introduce herself, I should do the same.

Hello, I'm Nick. I'm a fourth-year student at Manchester College, majoring in Peace Studies with an emphasis in Community and Social Relations. I've been pretty involved in Church of the Brethren stuff for the last six years or so, from local youth group stuff to the National Youth Cabinet. I also wrote for Messenger last summer.

I started this blog for young Brethren/Anabaptist/whatever people to talk about life through the lens of our faith. So far, most our posts have been largely issue-based, but that doesn't mean that the blog is limited to that format. I encourage authors to, as they like, write about personal experiences that they want to share with this community as well. (Actually, at this point, I just encourage authors. Sign on.)

I think I mentioned this before, but I just got back (four weeks ago today) from a year spent living and studying in Mexico. You might imagine (or know) that this brings all sorts of crazy experiences for me as I try to sort out who I am and where I call home.

One thing I missed in Mexico was Church. I attended a total of two services during my entire year there (one Catholic, one Jehova's Witness). And that's not for some shortage of churches in Mexico... it was a combination of classic college student laziness (I rarely attend Sunday services in Manchester), a different environment (no Wednesday chapels like at school) and a lack of belonging - both in terms of a familiar community and a familiar language.

A couple of weeks ago, I made it to a Taizé service at a Lutheran church in Indianapolis a couple of miles from the house I'm living in this summer. It was like coming home... the church was beautiful and the service was amazing. I love a sunlit, stone sanctuary, because the rays coming in from the high windows feel like God smiling in on me.

That's all. No point, no deep thought. Just an experience.

If You Believe...

You know how sometimes we learn new songs at Annual Conferences and other large denominational and regional events? And how sometimes we love them so much we can't keep ourselves from singing them?

Once upon a time, like 2001 Annual Conference in Baltimore perhaps, the Church of the Brethren learned the song "If You Believe and I Believe" from Zimbabwe. The song served as the country's national anthem during it's struggle for independence, declared in 1965 but not formally recognized until 1980.

It is a simple, beautiful song, with a fantastic message:

If you believe and I believe and we together pray
The Holy Spirit must come down and set God's people free,
And set God's people free,
And set God's people free;
The Holy Spirit must come down and set God's people free.

Although the song made it into the 2008 conference booklet, I don't know if we sang it. Strange though this seems to some of my friends, I didn't sit in on every business session.

As many of you may know from recent news reports, Zimbabwe had been an Africa success story (it still has the highest literacy rate on the continent) and Harare, the capitol, was site of the WCC's 8th General Assembly in 1998. Now the country is in the midst of a drought, weighted down by inflation, subject to an embargo, projecting the world's lowest life expectancy, and living through a time where its elections look more like a selection.

If we did indeed sing "If You Believe and I Believe" at Annual Conference, I hope we sang it as a prayer for Zimbabwe. If we didn't, I hope you and your congregation will do so in the future and keep the country's people in your prayers for the foreseeable future.

Gen X & Y-ing Out?

Greetings friends, sisters and brothers!

Nick asked for additional authors and I decided to answer the call. I come from the "quality-over-quantity" school of thought, so look for at least one post each month from me.

To give you a really brief personal intro at Nick's request (more to come soon, I promise): My name is Nadine, I'm 30, I live in Philadelphia and I've been blogging for a few years on various topics. (Hey, Nick, how 'bout putting short bios in the column?)

And, now, for the post:

Over my lunch break at work, I save about 15 minutes for scanning a few favorites on the Interwebs. Recently, I saw this article by Marty Cauley on the Albany Institute's blog and my jaw practically hit the desk. (Please read it! The link will open in a separate tab or window for you. It makes it easy to get back to this post when you're done.)

There, in black and white, is what seems to be a line-in to my brain.

Over the years as a member of the Church of the Brethren, there have been several occasions on which I've - seemingly - been asked to be the voice of all the young adults/youth the congregation has "trouble" attracting. I don't ask to be that voice and I don't pretend to speak for others. After all, I actually was at church and committed to being there on a regular basis.

But I feel this article clearly states three of the key points I fumblingly tried to articulate in my teens and twenties. (For the record, I strongly identify with Marty's third, fourth and fifth points, though I also like what he wrote in the first two.) The jewel is this quote:

They see it as hypocritical when the church states how important their presence is but develops program for them but not with them...

I can't tell you how many times I asked this when I was growing up! I'd leave church camp or NYC all geared up to contribute, feeling so empowered, only to get home and be told what was fun and meaningful.

So, seeing from the poll that most of you are in the Gen X, Gen Y and Millenial age groups, what do you think of Marty's article? Does it touch on any themes you notice as areas for improvement in the life of the church when it comes to young adults/youth? Are there other points you'd highlight that were missed?

Blessings in Christ,
Nadine

P.S.: Favorite semi-related quote
From Gruntled Center blog

"Several years ago, when some well-meaning but ineffectual Boomer was gassing on about our good intentions in church, I turned to Mrs. G. and asked (quietly), 'Can't we just pay the Xers to take over now?'"

Concerning post frequency

I've been posting like crazy so far to try to generate interesting material, discussion, and readership. I am (unfortunately) not a full-time blogger, and won't be able to sustain this trend. That's either a threat or an assurance, depending on how you feel about this flood of writing from me.

I would still like to have someone else writing.

Comments

It just came to my attention that until now, you had to log in to comment. I have changed that setting, so those of you without Google or OpenID accounts can now go back and make all the comments you wanted to but couldn't.

A Goole account is still required to be added as an author.

Church attendance through the ages

Okay, this is a deceptive post title, since "through the ages" usually references something historic.

This blog has existed for somewhere in the neighbourhood of 36 hours, and it's already way more successful than my other websites. I got 41 votes on the first poll, "How often do you attend worship," and that prompted me to write about just that.

For the first big chunk of my life, church attendance was mandatory. It was simply what you did on Sunday mornings, and no amount of complaining would get you out of it (there was an eventual compromise on dress code, resulting in my now-ingrained idea that T-shirts and jeans are appropriate church wear). As I got into my later years of high school, it became more of an optional thing for a couple of reasons: first, I was older and my parents were giving me more freedom, and second, I think church attendance in my family as a whole was starting to decline. I still went, now out of choice, and I thought I'd keep going to church once I was in college.

I had it all planned out. I'd go to the Eel River Community Church of the Brethren, since I knew Dan, the pastor. There was even a van to take me from the college and, better, a senior who worshipped there and was willing to drive me.

I went once.

It became just too easy to sleep in on Sunday mornings. Church was too early, ERCCOB was too far away, and I assumed I wouldn't like the North Manchester church because it was too big. Of course, there's another option for worship when you're at Manchester College: chapel!

I went to chapel maybe once or twice my entire first semester of college. Somewhere in the middle of that year, though, Jim, the campus pastor, asked me to do something for chapel. I don't remember what - a reading, a skit, a prayer - but I think his secret motive was to trick me into attendance. It worked, and I've scarcely missed a Wednesday since.

I also later discovered that I am in love with the North Manchester Church of the Brethren.

I still usually miss Sunday mornings, so my poll answer on average as a college student would be that I attend worship once a week. However, I had to vote "almost never," since in Mexico I've been to church twice: once to mass in Cuernavaca (who can say no to a mariache band in a cathedral?), and once to the Good Friday service at my host family's congregation of Jehova's Witnesses.

Thinking about this the other day, I started to wonder about how church attendance changes once we leave our families, go to college, and then leave college. (This also got me curious about the age distribution of this blog's fledgling readership, which is why I added the new poll. Scroll down for the old one.)

I wish I could post data that cross-references these two variables - age and attendance - but for now, please comment with your own stories and observations on the matter.

The evangelizers

Where I come from, Jehova's Witnesses are people you hear about in anecdotes, but never really actually encounter. "Just tell them you're already saved," my mom jokes.

Living in Mexico with a family of them has been an interesting experience, which can be both interesting and frustrating. In general, they are soft-spoken and willing to listen (not just my family, but the other JW's I've encountered here), and their literature can be impressive in its thoroughness and scientific backing. On the other hand, sometimes I feel like they're trying to gently point me towards their obvious truth, with questions like "do you know about the end times?" or publications that seem to have all of the answers.

From time to time, my host mother mentions that two English-speaking brothers from the church stopped by trying to "give me the good news," but I was away. I am intensely uncomfortable being evangelized to, and I've always been pretty happy that they missed me. "Score one for Team Brethren," I say with a smile, winking upwards.

Perhaps God did not find this amusing. At any rate, this morning they finally caught me. I have to say, their English was astounding, especially if they learned it just to spread the Word. And aside from one awkward moment when they asked me "what I thought of" the Good Friday service I went to at their church (did my host family fail to tell them that I'm already a churchgoer?), it was not a lamentable interruption to my noon breakfast. They'd heard that I was going to be working with incarcerated youth this summer and gave me a handy book about issues youth face, all with a Biblical foundation. I dodged any direct theological talk - while I have many good things to say about Jehova's Witnesses, I find that my family and the literature they give me tends to imply that they have all the answers. I don't always feel it's worth it to tell people with that attitude that I don't agree with them about some given issue, so I tend to keep quiet here.

The book they gave me definitely points to the "right answers." Sometimes it has obvious interpretations of the Bible, but other times it seems to take some larger, though usually common, leaps without providing any sort of argument for these assumptions. At one point, it seemed they couldn't actually find any Bible verse on a particular issue so they went so far as to put in a bracket quote that changed an ambiguous verse into a clear one (I won't provide specific examples, because I'm not trying to talk about these issues at this point).

I won't be using the book this summer - the nonprofit I'm working for is not religious, and my job is to keep kids, Christian or not, out of jail. But this story does bring up some thoughts about evangelism and "right answers."

When a consultant told my church congregation recently that we need a minister of evangelism, someone asked him if he was aware that we would find no such thing in the Church of the Brethren (I'm not up to date on the matter, but I think we hired/are hiring someone from outside the COB). And it's true, many of the Brethren I know get antsy at the idea of evangelism (though I would interject that there are also very strong evangelical strains in the Church - just not so much in Goshen, IN). We focus intensely on service and throw around that old Alexander Mack quote, "they will know us by the manner of our living" (I love that). But I think - and I say think because I'm a far cry from a historian - we're distorting Church history a bit when we use that quote in relation to evangelism.

My understanding is that that quote is in response to the decision of the "brethren" not to take a name, not in defense of a non-evangelical stanse. In fact, from what I read in the introduction to my copy of the 300th anniversary devotion book, it seems like the early Brethren were actually quite evangelial, gaining members even from Mennonite communities (correct me if I have this wrong).

But history aside, what's the right attitude here? My problem with evangelism is that it implies that we're right and other people are wrong. It seems presumptuous to assume that we (as Brethren or as Christians), and no one else, know God's mind. Could people of other religions have discovered the real truth, or (as I prefer to believe), a different truth than ours that is still a perfectly valid understanding of an infinite and undefineable God?

Still, maybe the Brethren do have something to offer. I have met, at college and here in Mexico, plenty of people who have been completely turned off to Christianity, yet are impressed and refreshed by the things I have to say about my faith and about the Church of the Brethren. One friend, Jon, a devout atheist, actually told me "Nick, I've always been pretty against this whole Christianity stuff, but from what you've told me I think the Brethren have some stuff I can really respect and get behind."

Cool.

I've yet to bring any converts into our fold (as far as I know), but I feel like I'm on the right track: telling people who we are and learning about who they are, then finding common ground in how we can do God's work here on earth. And I get to express all this enthusiasm I have for the Church of the Brethren while I'm at it!

Of course, Brethren - and Christians - are all over the map with this stuff, and I still haven't figured out exactly how evangelical is too evangelical - or not evangelical enough. Where do you fall on the question of evangelism? I look forward to reading your comments.

PS - Still looking for more authors. Volunteer or you'll just have to keep reading what I think!

What is idolatry?

Image from www.myconfinedspace.com

It won't come as much surprise to those who know me that I've essentially read everything written about the current U.S. presidential election since before all the candidates had even declared their intentions to run. And I knew Barack Obama - he won a special place in my heart with his keynote speech at the 2004 Democratic National Convention. Yet due to my bias (25 points if you guess my original candidate), it wasn't until the night of the Iowa caucuses that I really got a taste of the Democratic nominee-to-be.

That night will be a memory that sticks vividly with me throughout my life. I remember clear as day watching Barack Obama give his victory speech and feeling my stomach flip like it does when I'm about to ask someone out, or am on the verge of beating the next level in a videogame. I turned to Elizabeth, my election-viewing companion, and said out loud, "That's our next president."

Barack Obama isn't just running a campaign for president: he's leading a movement. If you don't believe me, ask an analyst.

I'm a peace studies major at Manchester College, as well as a student of anthropology at la Universidad Veracruzana. We are no stranger to heroes. I can't go to campus without seeing someone wearing a shirt depicting Che Guevarra, whose face can strike courage and purpose into the heart of any hippie. And now, finally, my generation has its hero. I've worked in politics for sixteen years, starting with helping in yard sign making efforts at the age of four, and I've gotten pretty into it - that tends to happen when your dad's job is on the line. But Obama is my generation's Bobby Kennedy. He is inspiring, with a populist message of hope and change that leaves our eyes tearing just like when Shadow limped home at the end of Homeward Bound (well, I cried). His image appears on T-shirts and phone poles. Obama is our hero.

But wait a second... are we maybe getting carried away? Is Che such a hero? He was an armed revolutionary, which certainly seems out of keeping with my Brethren pacifism. He accomplished some admirable things, and there's nothing wrong with recognizing that. Likewise, Barack Obama is not my beliefs embodied in a U.S. politician. I disagree with him on issues of great moral consequence, like the use of military force as a foreign policy tool and the legality of gay marriage. And while his overarching message is one I can definitely get on board with - a call to unity among people who do disagree about morality and policy, to work together towards solutions - maybe people are taking this hero thing just a little too far. Could it be bordering on idolatry?

When I think of the word "idolatry," I usually think of someone worshipping a golden calf thousands of years ago. A "false" god, represented by a physical object, and essentially not something to be concerned with in the Christian church today.

But I think, intellectually, we have to accept a broader idea of idolatry. I remember many years ago in Sunday School we talked about how some people worship money instead of God - and that's a very real concern that is very relevant to probably almost everyone that reads this. Yet do we have to stop with the inanimate? Perhaps idolatry should be understood as putting our faith and hope into the earthly instead of in God.

Barack Obama is a man. He is fallible. He is as capable of leading us into a disastrous war, robbing us of our civil liberties and alienating the rest of the world as our current president (if not as likely). And the more power you have, the easier it is to make bad decisions. So should we really be putting him up on this pedestal, trumpeting him as some sort of prophet? In fact, isn’t it dangerous for us to put so much faith in one man?

Hope doesn't belong to one campaign or party, and our faith should be put in God rather than in a human being. We are all flawed, and while it is necessary for us to trust one another and work together, we should be careful about idolizing someone. Biblical implications aside, such hero-worship can blind us to the downside of a candidate - or, indeed, any leader.

As for voting... well, that's a whole different mess.

Anyway, I just thought it would be interesting to explore this (I still love the man). Any comments?

Get up and Dance

This was my message when I led chapel at the COB General Offices during my internship with Messenger, Summer 2007. It's not really analytical, but I had to post something.

“Praise him with the sounding of the trumpet, praise him with the harp and lyre, praise him with tambourine and dancing, praise him with the strings and flute, praise him with the clash of cymbals, praise him with resounding cymbals.” - Psalm 150:3-5

“Nobody cares if you can’t dance well. Just get up and dance.” - Dave Barry, Fourteen things that took me 50 years to learn, item six.

Dancing is a subject of some humor in the Church of the Brethren. I’m dubious about the accuracy of this – and part of me is afraid to ask – but rumor has it that back in the day, Bridgewater College used a 100 point system for disciplinary procedures: policy violations would earn you points, and once you reached 100 you were kicked out. Sources say that getting caught engaging in “premarital relations” was worth 99 points: getting caught dancing was an even hundred.

But Brethren jokes aside, Dave Barry – and the author of Psalm 150 – have an important message for us. God didn’t give us such beauty and creativity and passion and intensity so we could stay seated and keep our talents – or just our enthusiasm – to ourselves. Church is not a middle school dance where the boys and the girls clump together on opposite sides of the room and look awkwardly at each other. Church is a party where we can all dance our hearts out and never worry about looking stupid.

Temptations to treat our faith coolly follow us all our lives. Youth are pressured to be “too cool” to talk about Jesus. Adults who have been raised in the church can be just too used to our faith to get excited about it. And we all know what it’s like to be too busy to be excited about anything except the end of the day. The English department office at my high school has a clock permanently fixed on 5:00 with a sign underneath that reads, “It’s 5 PM somewhere.”

Brothers and sisters, life is better than that! God is too good not to praise. Our work here as Christians is too important not to give it our all. When we hold back due to our fear – of failure, of incompetence, of being overwhelmed, of putting ourselves out there, of looking stupid, of getting turned down by Ashley Brandau when we ask her to dance – we are robbing the world of our gifts and ourselves of the joy of living.

Look around. We're doing amazing things. We're feeding the hungry. We're clothing the naked. We're visiting the sick and imprisoned. We're reaching out our hands to Jesus and no, it’s not enough and it never will be, but it’s something. And that is something to celebrate. God is good, and God is doing good work, and that is all the reason we need to praise him with the sounding of the trumpet, with the harp and lyre, with tambourine and strings and flute and cymbals and yes, even dancing.

Now, go to any dance with me and you’ll find me standing quietly in the corner, explaining to anyone who tries to drag me out onto the floor that I’m Brethren and dancing is sinful. But when it comes to our passion for life, our love for Jesus Christ and our commitment to a better world, we have too much to offer to keep it to ourselves. Like Ken Medema's song from NYC 2006 says, “There’s lots of room out on the dancing floor. There’s no delaying anymore.”

An introduction

I should probably start this blog off by explaining exactly what this blog is going to be. And to explain what this blog is going to be, I should explain who this blog is to be about: youth and young adults in the Church of the Brethren. What I want to do is examine the relevant issues we face in the world today, from religion and morality to news and politics, all through the lens of Brethren and youth identity.

This blog does not need to be exclusively Brethren. In fact, I'd say "exclusively Brethren" is probably an oxymoron. Don't flee if you aren't a member of or don't identify with our church; there might be something for you here, as many of these themes are universal, both within our generation (I'm 21) and beyond. However, I feel the need to ground these themes in a shared identity, which for me is going to be Brethren.

I also want to put out a call for other authors. While I see the value of coherency and consistency of thought, I do want to imply that I am the voice of Brethren youth. I don't want to wind up with a forum of several dozen writers (see young.anabaptistradicals.org), but I very much want some other people who are willing to contribute to this blog (anyone is, of course, both welcome and encouraged to comment). If you like thinking about religion, politics, life and Brethrenness, and feel you can contribute thoughtful posts with some reasonable regularity (nothing crazy, just one every week or two), please contact me at nmkauffman (at) spartans (dot) manchester (dot) edu and I'll look into adding you to the authors list. Note that you'll need a gmail account and the ability to use blogspot's interface (it isn't hard :-).

One more thing: I do not want this to turn into a political forum or a hotspot for debate. Yes, controversial issues tend to be among the most relevant, and I want to address them. But this is a site for examination, not arguing. There can be a fine line, but some general guidelines (off the top of my head) could be:

For posting: Pretend you're giving a sermon. Use open and accepting language. Be affirming of the humanity and the Christ in all your readers. But also remember that you don't have to write some big long thing: anything we can share in is good (e.g. - famous quotes from Walt Wiltschek ;-).

For commenting: See above. Be respectful of the thought and searching that went into the post. Try to ask questions rather than provide "answers." Look for common ground. Be challenging, but only in a way as to open up more ideas and thoughts, rather than in a way that discourages or closes them off.

I'm sitting on a few articles that I'll try to throw up sometime in the next couple of days. In the meantime, if you happen to stumble upon this site and want to do some writing, let me know.

-Nick Miller Kauffman