Archive for October, 2007

MENNONITE HISTORY VIGNETTES

Sunday, October 28th, 2007 by mswora

On Sunday, October 28, 2007 we at Emmanuel Mennonite Church celebrated "Mennonite Heritage Sunday." The message was actually a drama, about the trial of Michael Sattler, based on actual transcripts of his trial in 1527, and his last letter to his disciples, which can be downloaded by clicking here: Download Sattlerdrama.doc Included in the service of worship were some vignettes of God’s work through our Anabaptist ancestors and modern-day partners. Here are some of them:

GETTING OFF THE FENCE

When, in Holland, 1535, Father Menno Simons got word of the armed revolt and deaths of so many peasant rebels nearby, one of whom may have been his brother, Pieter, he knew, in his heart of hearts, that he bore some responsibility for that dreadful, violent event. Like them, he had read the Bible for himself and had come to believe that the state churches had buried the simple gospel underneath layers of tradition and corruption. Unlike them, he had not made a break from the state church. Indeed, he continued to enjoy an easy life and a secure future as a priest in the very church that had put these rebels to death, despite sharing much of their faith in secret. But one thing he did not share with either the state church or the rebels was a belief in violence as a way to protect the kingdom of God, or to promote it. His exhaustive study of the Bible convinced him that the Sword of the Word was only tarnished by the sword of the world. If newly enlightened and liberated disciples of Christ were to avoid either the dangers of despair and compromise, or of violence, someone would have to teach them the better way of Jesus. And the only person he could see who could do that was himself. He soon thereafter made his break with the state church,went immediately into hiding, along with the believers whom he shepherded between the dangers of violent revolution and compromise with the state churches. They were soon to bear his name in shame, as wanted crimimals: "Menists," or "Mennonites.” The words of hymn # 407 in our Hymnal: A Worship Book , “We Are People of God’s Peace,” were penned by Menno Simons.

ENEMY AT THE GATES

When the angry mob of peasants showed up at the gates of St. Peter’s Benedictine monastery with torches, pitchforks and swords, on a cold, dark night in Switzerland, in 1523, the abbot, Brother Michael Sattler didn’t need to be told why they were ready to sack the monastery and kill them all. They were weary of the heavy taxes which the monks were charged to collect. Despite his fear, Sattler remembered the Rule of St. Benedict which says to welcome everyone who comes to your door as though he were Christ himself. Benedict made no exception for guests with swords, torches and pitchforks. So he invited them in, fed them, heard their complaints, and knew that they were right: simple brothers of Christ were to share their wealth with the poor, not demand it from them. That was not Michael’s only misgiving about this unholy alliance of state and church. Within a short time, Michael would be found among the peasants, not as a monk meeting warlike peasants, but as a Bible teacher and pastor in the way of peace. We shall shortly hear his story.

MARTYR SONGS

In the dungeon of Passau, Southern Germany, many Anabaptists were kept for trial, punishment, and sometimes for execution. Someone must have smuggled in some paper to these prisoners, and someone must have smuggled them out, for there exists a collection of fifty-one poems and songs of theirs, made into hymns, a collection now called the Ausbund. Many of these are quite serious poems about holding up under persecution, in the face of death. Others are quite joyful celebrations of God and his faithfulness. Amish home congregations use this collection as their hymnal today. Hymn #314 in our Hymnal: A Worship Book, “The Word of God,” is from this collection, the Ausbund, with the words written somewhere between 1535 and 1545.

THE UYO STORY

Ever since the missionaries first brought the gospel to Africa, churches have also grown spontaneously among the Africans, by Africans, with African cultural characteristics. Such a network began in the vicinity of Uyo, in Nigeria, in the 1950’s. But they soon realized that they needed help in learning the Bible, and that this help would have to come from outside. So one month, the leaders of these churches decided they would be Methodists, and wrote to the Methodist mission agency, asking for Bible teachers. No response came back. Then for another month, they were Presbyterian. Again, no response. They even tried being Mormon. Still no help. Then someone had heard of Mennonites. So they wrote them. Soon, two Mennonite missionaries, Ed and Irene Weaver, appeared on their door steps, and that began a long history of Mennonite missionary work among African-Initiated churches, in countries like Botswana, South Africa, Togo, Benin and Lesotho, often on the understanding that these churches will not join the Mennonites and become Mennonite, but that they will be partners in a cause bigger than any one denomination: the kingdom of God. Such work continues to today. From this partnership comes the very last song we will sing today.

THIS IS MY TRAVEL PERMIT

In 1984, when the Derg, the Communist government of Ethiopia, proclaimed a curfew and travel restrictions, it was, in part, to keep pastors and evangelists such as Fikru Zekele from doing exactly what they caught him doing: traveling to visit and encourage the believers of the secret, underground cells of the Meserete Kristos Church, our Mennonite partners in Ethiopia. He was forced to sit across the desk from a government official, who placed his pistol on the desk top to frighten him, and who asked him, with his voice full of contempt, “Where is your travel permit?” knowing full well that he wouldn’t have one, and would therefore be liable to imprisonment or even execution? Fikru reached into his jacket, pulled out his Bible, laid it on the official’s desk, opened it to Matthew 28: 19-20 and read “’All power and authority in heaven and on earth have been given to me. Therefore, go into the world and make disciples from all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them everything I have commanded you.’ That,” Fikru said, “is my travel permit.”

by Mathew Swora

Someone Has to be First

Monday, October 22nd, 2007 by mswora

This is the message that was delivered at Emmanuel Mennonite Church on Sunday, October 21, 2007:

I Peter 3: 8-12

8Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble. 9Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing. 10For,
   "Whoever would love life
      and see good days
   must keep his tongue from evil
      and his lips from deceitful speech.
11He must turn from evil and do good;
      he must seek peace and pursue it.
12For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous
      and his ears are attentive to their prayer,
   but the face of the Lord is against those who do evil."[a]

Who wants to be first? Sometimes that’s a scary question. As in: Who wants to be the first to fly in this new kind of airplane? It works great in all the computerized tests we’ve put it through, it held up in the wind tunnel, and it even comes with an extra wing in case one should fall off…. again. So who wants to fly in it first? Someone has to be the first.

It makes sense that test pilots get paid so well, doesn’t it?

Or who wants to be the first to try a new medication? It killed off all the dreaded fungy-bungy bacteria in thousands of Petri dishes, and twelve generations of laboratory mice have fairly thrived on the stuff, but who’s going to be the first person to actually take it? Someone has to be the first.

Aren’t you glad there are strict guidelines around human testing of medications?

In the weekly Army newspaper that American soldiers read during the Second World War, Stars and Stripes, the last cartoon on the European front, from May, 1945, shows two American soldiers in a foxhole, with a German soldier across the field from them in another foxhole, and one American says to another, while pointing his thumb toward enemy lines: “I know the war’s over, but I ain’t standing up until he does.” That cartoon only confirms how much easier it is to start a conflict than it is to stop it. But again, for peace to break out, someone has to be first to act in peace.

When the new I-35W bridge goes up over the Mississippi River, someone will have to be the first to drive all the way across it. It will probably be a public official in the course of some civic ceremony. If you don’t count the construction workers themselves. And it will be a very big event. But in all of those instances and more, someone has to be first.

The world often sees being first as foolish. But Peter considers it to be often a sign of wisdom. Everything he has said to us in the last few messages of the last chapter we have examined, is about being the first to offer and to make peace. He addresses the disciple as a subject of a worldly king and a worldly kingdom. There’s a situation fraught with the potential for conflict and injustice. But Peter’s advice is to honor and do justice by everyone, from the king to each commoner. Don’t wait to receive honor and justice before you give honor and do justice. Then there’s the matter of the disciple as a slave. Peter says, in effect, serve everyone as you would God, and be willing to suffer for doing right, not for doing wrong. Don’t wait to be served before you serve. Don’t wait for someone else to do you right before you do right. Then there’s the matter of the disciple as wife or husband in a marriage, at that time, a situation full of all sorts of power imbalances and vulnerability. Peter says, don’t wait to be treated with respect, treat each other with respect, make allowances for each other’s weakness, so that nothing might hinder your prayers together.

In today’s passage, Peter sums all this relational wisdom up, beginning with the word, “Finally…” What he’s been saying all along about all these different relationships comes down to this, in verse 8: “Finally, live in harmony with one another, be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble.” And that will automatically ensure you sweet, peaceful relationships with everyone, right?

Not necessarily. Not always. Peter goes on to say in verse 9, “Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing….” as a way of admitting that our efforts to live in harmony, empathy, love and compassion could sometimes be met with more hostility, even abuse. But again, someone has to be the first to give a blessing, and to be a blessing, whatever the history has been, and to that, to being the first, Peter says, we have been called. Someone has to be first, and that someone is the disciple of Jesus. That, we shall see, is our calling. And that, I hope I make clear, is wisdom.

If wisdom is just about getting our way in the world, and stacking the deck in our favor, so that we’re more likely to get what we want and to accomplish it with less effort and more efficiency, then some are more wise than others simply because they have more power and money than others to make things work out the way they want them to. Otherwise, the vast majority of us are condemned to be fools, simply by virtue of the fact that we have so little power or control over what others do and how they respond to us.

But we are only responsible for ourselves. Knowing that leads to the kind of wisdom recounted in a folk tale from India, about a scorpion that was stranded on a branch over a raging flood. A peasant saw it, took pity on it and reached out to rescue it and put it on high, dry ground. But as he did so, the scorpion stung him. The poison made the peasant’s hand swell and turn numb, and though he yelped with pain and anger, he didn’t fling the scorpion into the water or onto the ground to stomp on him, though he was tempted. Someone who saw this asked the peasant, “Why didn’t you kill the scorpion for stinging you while you were rescuing him? Why did you continue to carry it to safety?” The peasant replied, “The scorpion could only do what was in his nature, and I must do what is in mine.”

What was in that merciful peasant’s nature is similar to what Peter says is in our nature. Or at least in our calling. Peter says in verse 9, that we were called to bless and to be blessed. “Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing,” he says, “because to this you were called, so that you might inherit a blessing.”

To this we were called: to inherit a blessing by giving blessings. The Amish of Pennsylvania showed that they understood this connection between being blessed and giving blessings in their response to the terrible and tragic shootings of their school girls in Nickel Mines last year. They immediately gathered around the family of the assailant, to share their support and forgiveness in their shared grief. And when asked why they rushed to support the wife and children of the assailant and to cry on each other’s shoulders, they alternately said, “We must forgive if we are to be forgiven,” and “We must forgive as we have been forgiven.” Their loving and merciful response to this tragedy was more about who they were, than about who the assailant was and what he did. They would not let the actions of someone else determine who they were and what they were called to do. They didn’t wait for anyone to come to them for this experience of mercy and mutual support. They went first.

I confess that I’m still getting my head around this different understanding of wisdom, that wisdom is more about being in harmony with who we are and are called to be, than it is about being in harmony with the world, getting what we want from it, and getting by with it. Or we could go deeper and say that this wisdom is about who God the Creator is and what his Creation is really, really like. If we really want to overload our mental circuits and challenge the whole idea of wisdom as just the best way of coming out ahead in any given circumstance, consider that Wisdom is also a name or a title for Jesus. And Wisdom went to the cross, rather than calling twelve legions of angels down for a pre-emptive strike against his enemies.

Paul wrote the Corinthians in his first letter to them that, “Christ is for us the wisdom of God, that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption.” This is similar to when Jesus told his disciples, “I am the way, the truth and the life.” In Jesus we see the nature of God and the will of God for all of Creation. In him, in his life and words and work and character, we see the peace and the harmony for which and by which the universe was brought into being. In the words of Isaiah and of Paul’s letter to Ephesus, “He is our peace.”

More concretely, Christ demonstrated this wisdom, in that “While we were yet enemies [of God and each other], Christ died for us (Romans 5:6).” So God did not wait for us to reconcile with him; God, through Christ, went first.

But this understanding of wisdom and peace is older than Peter and the gospel. Peter quotes from a Psalm of David, Psalm 34, to make his point. That psalm is a wisdom psalm, coming from Israel’s wisdom tradition.

“Whoever would love life and see good days

Must keep his tongue from evil and his lips from deceitful speech.

He must turn from evil and do good; he must seek peace and pursue it.”

“Seek peace and pursue it,” Peter says, because that is how God is and who God is, and what God is doing in the world, through Christ and the cross. And if we bear the image of God, if we are the image of God, then seeking peace and pursuing it is true to who we are, too. This business of, “When in Rome, do like the Romans,” and “I’m not going to stand up until he does,” sounds safe, maybe even prudent, but as a way of life in the world, it requires so many violations of our true selves that it leads to spiritual death by a thousand compromises.

Those are challenging words, I know. But I have been set back on my heels this week by this very challenge in verse 11, to “seek peace and pursue it.” The more I thought about it, the more I began to realize that all these years I had rarely thought of peace as something that needed active seeking and pursuing. I’ve more often thought of it as simply the absence of conflict. So if my neighbors and I never even look at each other, let alone talk, that’s peace, right?

Wrong.

Some of us might remember the John Lennon song from the 1970’s, “All We Are Saying is Give Peace a Chance.” It was meant as a statement against the Vietnam War. But I took it to mean that peace is just out there, waiting to show once the conflict dies down. Like its just hanging in the air like wallpaper on your computer screen, like the default mode to which everything would return if we just shut up and got along and were nice. Stop the fighting and peace will automatically fill the vacuum, I thought, as though peace is the vacuum.

But the wisdom of the Bible and of Peter’s letter says that peace is something that must be sought and pursued. It is not just the silence between the bombs and bullets; it is something active and assertive, something to be cultivated intelligently and artfully, sought and pursued continually and attentively with just as much effort and imagination and discipline as is victory on the battlefield. It often takes just as much courage and effort, because it often requires being the first, the first to bless, the first to love, the first to approach the enemy, the first to lay down his weapons. Learning how to do so is the very essence of wisdom.

This is the school in which all of Jesus’ disciples are enrolled. What I am describing is not an addition to our journey of discipleship, nor just a piece of it. It is discipleship, at least insofar as our relationships with fellow humans are concerned. Peter gives us a few practical lessons in discipleship with his advice to “keep our tongues from evil and our lips from deceitful speech,” for example, or to “be compassionate and humble.” These are essential parts and pieces of our stockpile of peace-making wisdom.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.”

This is the lesson of Pastor Lawrence Hart’s life. Lawrence is both a Mennonite minister and a Cheyenne Indian peace chief. From what Lawrence has shared, most Cheyenne chiefs were peace chiefs, that is, older leaders entrusted with the wisdom and the discipline for keeping the peace within the village and among the Cheyennes, and between the Cheyennes and other tribes. From so many cavalry and Indian movies and television shows we may have come to think of the Cheyenne Indians as warlike and brave in battle. And some of them were. Or at least their warrior societies of younger men were, whenever they threw off the guidance and direction of the peace chiefs.

But the peace chiefs were taught a rigorous science of peacekeeping out of their tribal traditions. It included lessons like, “even if you see your family members being attacked, you as peace chief must sit and smoke your pipe before you react.” They were not to eat until they knew that there was food enough for everyone in their village. And they were to follow up on every insult, aggression and misunderstanding between one village member and another, to resolve the grievances. Some of these peace chiefs gave up their lives in peace-keeping, marching forth unarmed to meet enemies and attackers who were approaching their village, to try and negotiate a peace and discourage the attack.

A few years ago, something happened for Chief Lawrence Hart that strongly tested his peace-making temperament and training. It was an anniversary of the Battle of the Washita, in Oklahoma, when General Custer and his 7th Cavalry Regiment swooped down one cold winter morning on a sleeping band of Lawrence’s ancestors, and massacred all but a few men, women and children in the camp. This has always been a difficult memory for the Cheyennes, and it didn’t strike them as particularly wise when they were invited to take part in an historical observance of the anniversary of that tragedy.

But Hart and his relatives agreed to participate on the condition that they receive back from the local museum the bones of one of those ancestors, a young boy, killed in that attack. So everything was set to go, when another group showed up on the morning of the anniversary event: a group of Cavalry re-enactors, the actual Grandsons of the Seventh Cavalry, in period uniform, with replica weapons, and on horseback. They asked for and got permission to re-enact the cavalry charge that destroyed the village, shooting off their replica rifles with blank cartridges. Its hard to believe such insensitivity. And when they did so, tensions and anger were running very high among the local Indians gathered there.

The last event of the day was the burial of the bones from the museum. As the coffin was brought past the cavalry re-enactors, they snapped to attention to present arms. That irritated many of the Cheyennes even more. A moment later, a young Cheyenne woman stepped forward and put her blanket on the passing coffin. Cheyenne tradition dictates that this blanket then be presented as a gift to a visiting dignitary, to honor him or her. The Cheyenne chiefs huddled together for a moment, and in true peace chief tradition, they asked the youngest of their own, Pastor Lawrence, to give the blanket to the leader of the Grandsons of the 7th Cavalry, the very descendants of the men who had killed the person in that coffin.

The leader of the Grandsons was invited to approach the chiefs. He marched forward, snapped to attention and presented his sword. Lawrence directed him to turn around, and when he did, he draped the blanket over the officer’s shoulders. The very symbolism and meaning of this action, so many years after the massacre, moved many people at the ceremony to tears. The officer, with the blanket over his shoulder, ordered his regiment to fire the customary 21 volley salute over the casket of the massacre victim, an honor that was otherwise reserved only for one of their own. As it was a cold winter day, the ceremony ended with food and refreshments inside the museum. But there was hardly a dry eye as the descendants of the survivors on both sides of the massacre greeted and embraced each other across the gulf that had once been a racial battle zone. I don’t think that the grandfathers of either the 7th Cavalry or the Cheyenne Indians would ever have dreamed of such a powerful experience of resolution and reconciliation, made possible because someone took seriously the call to be the first, to “seek peace and pursue it,” and “to bless [even our enemies] for to this we were called, that we might inherit a blessing.”

[For the whole story on this encounter, check out the Mennonite Historical Society Archive site at http://www.mcusa-archives.org/MHB/Hart-Washita.html ]

For this is how the very Wisdom of God has come to us, as John the Beloved writes, “not because we loved God, but because God first loved us, and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice [that is, a peace offering] for our sins (I John 4:10).”

Mathew Swora, pastor

WAR WITH IRAN?

Thursday, October 18th, 2007 by mswora

Should it come to war any time soon between the United States and Iran, the history books about that confrontation will include at least a chapter on the role of some Christian Zionists in urging this conflict on, and in giving it religious and ideological cover. Or the historians may say that some well-meaning Christians were used and manipulated by the same public and political figures they thought they were encouraging to start war between America and Iran. Some of the blame will rightfully go to the mullahs and the president of Iran for all they did to inflame warlike sentiments. But some of it will also go to some high profile American Christian televangelists and political activists who genuinely seem to think that by encouraging a pre-emptive military strike against Iran, they are blessing Abraham and his descendants and doing God’s will.

And should the unthinkable happen, and an un-winnable war with Iran be launched, unleashing an avalanche of devastating complications and consequences for generations to come, some of them easily foreseeable, future American generations will likely look upon the church and their Christian parents and ancestors and ask, as they have in Germany and Austria after the Second World War, “What did you do to prevent the war or stop it?” And if enough of us must remain silent or give excuses, or (God forbid) confess that we poured gasoline on the fire with apocalyptic glee, then the church will garner the same indifference or contempt that it does in much of postwar secular Europe today.

If that should be the case, then I, for one, want to go on permanent record as saying that I oppose any efforts to wage war with Iran, and even to threaten or encourage it. And I am not alone. The Sojourners Community of Washington, D.C., has issued its call for restraint on both sides in a statement, “Words Not War,” that can be found at  http://www.sojourners.com/index.cfm?action=action.wnw&item=wnw_main. There you will also find the story of Christian leaders, representative of not a few denominations, including the Mennonites, who have met more than once with President Ahmedinajad of Iran for some respectful dialog and some very pointed and honest challenges to his inflammatory and irresponsible statements about Jews, Israel and the United States. But they earned the right to be heard precisely because they were willing to listen, and to acknowledge the rights of Muslims and Arabs (few Iranians are Arabs, by the way) to exist in Palestine and the Middle East, as well as the Jews.

By “Christian Zionists” I mean fellow Christians, but those who justify and support the most hard line Israeli political positions and military actions against Arabs and Palestinians, even though many, if not most, Israelis might not go so far. They are absolutely right when they say that Christians in the past have too often engaged in anti-Jewish pogroms and inquisitions, that we slept-walked through atrocities such as the Holocaust, and that its time to reverse our complacency about, and our collusion with, anti-semitism. But I disagree with their implicit call to choose between loving Israelis or Arabs (many of whom are Christians) and to identify the most warlike and oppressive Israeli policies with the will of God.

Watching or hearing the sermons of the most militant Christian Zionists, like the Rev. John Hagee of Christians United for Israel, I am transported back to the 1970’s, when I was a new believer and my country was as fearful of the Communists as we are of terrorists and jihadis today. Then, as now, it was not uncommon for some televangelists, pastors and revivalists to whip up sentiment and support by whipping up our fear of enemies, who would take over our country and kill us Christians, we were told, if any softies among us would let them. Since the Vietnam War was still underway, it was allegedly God’s will that we kill the Commies since they so desperately and unanimously wanted to kill us. This call to war was all the more powerful and gripping when fed into calculations of apocalyptic scenarios from various combinations of Biblical prophecies to show why the imminent and inevitable fiery showdown with godless Bolshevism or Maoism would soon usher in the return of Christ. Hagee’s teachings and videos are full of similar charts and speculations about how war with Iran is necessary for the Second Coming of Christ.

I still believe in the real and visible coming of Christ. My reading of history and of Bible prophecy doesn’t give me much reason to believe that we humans will suddenly and smoothly evolve or progress our way out of inequality, injustice and violence any time soon. I am much more hopeful about our long-term, eternal prospects. And my faith and my Lord give me resources and encouragement to keep working toward that end in the short term. Yet should the Lord’s return be soon, and should it occur in the course of a cataclysmic debacle, I would much rather be found, in that final inspection, on the side of those who were showing love to Israelis and Palestinians equally than on the side of those who were stoking the fires of war. I would much rather be found on the side of those who were helping feed the poor and the hungry, of those who were reaching out to self-described enemies, and of those who were restraining their appetites for energy and comfort, than be found on the side of those who were pushing the pedal to the metal on the road to Armageddon.

Nor do I intend to fall again for the error of confusing fear, loathing and the “stern, impassioned stress” of war fever with a spiritual experience, as I did back when some revivalists almost had me convinced to stockpile ammunition because the Communists were coming any day now, and therefore Christ was, too. But I’m experiencing “deja vu all over again” in the messages of those Christian Zionists who are whipping up the case for war with Iran. Think of what that will do to the Iranian church, which is growing, even as the mullahs deny its existence or hunt it down.

The only experiences I recognize as spiritual anymore are those that have to do with trust, pardon, peace, mercy, reconciliation and costly, cruciform love, even for enemies who are determined to stay enemies. In the history books to come, if the Lord should tarry, I hope that Christian peacemakers—friends of Israelis and Arabs, Jews and Muslims–get more space than just a few footnotes. Better yet, may those histories never need to be written.

The Household Within the Household of Faith

Monday, October 15th, 2007 by mswora

The following message was delivered at Emmanuel Mennonite Church during worship, on Sunday, October 14, 2007. I welcome your comments, corrections, questions, whatever, in response.

I Peter 3: 1-7

1Wives, in the same way be submissive to your husbands so that, if any of them do not believe the word, they may be won over without words by the behavior of their wives, 2when they see the purity and reverence of your lives. 3Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. 4Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight. 5For this is the way the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful. They were submissive to their own husbands, 6like Sarah, who obeyed Abraham and called him her master. You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear.

7Husbands, in the same way be considerate as you live with your wives, and treat them with respect as the weaker partner and as heirs with you of the gracious gift of life, so that nothing will hinder your prayers.

One of the dangers of preaching a series through a book of the Bible is that you might run across a passage that, frankly, you may not want to preach on, and which people may not want to hear. Like the one that was just read, which has often been taken to mean, “Women, stay in your lowly, second-class places!” Or, “Women, this is the dress code we are going to enforce upon you!” That’s the history that joins us in this sanctuary like a big, invisible elephant whenever we hear these words.

Its not that we commonly hears sermons on this passage. You’ll find it missing from most Bible lectionary schedules. But a few among us grew up hearing almost nothing but this passage. It was used in a lot of more socially and culturally strict Mennonite churches to explain why women should not wear jewelry, colorful clothing, or style their hair. Because Peter seems to be saying, ‘Don’t do that.’ And this is one of the passages also used to explain why women should allegedly defer to men in everything, whenever there’s a difference of opinion, because Peter says that even Sarah called Abraham, ‘lord,’ or ‘master,’ as a sign of her obedience. Never mind the fact that Sarah was using the respectful term that people commonly used with each other at the time, something comparable to “Sir,” or “Mister,” and not the term that would be used for God. Some who grew up with such a history have done the hard labor of working through this oppressive history of abuse—abuse of women and abuse of the Bible—to claim your freedom and power and dignity and your ministries as sisters in Christ in spite of that stifling history, and I for one applaud you for it. After what you may have experienced in some churches, you worked and sifted through all that tradition about cultural conformity and reclaimed the basic, essential kernel of the Christian faith. And all of us are richer for it. I only hope that by hearing these words, you are not re-experiencing some of the trauma of those times.

But often I have found that the Bible passages that scare me most at first turn out to be among the most fruitful to consider. And I hope you find that to be the case with this passage. Sometimes some fresh and nourishing fruit pops out of a word or a phrase that is easily overlooked, a phrase that turns out to be something like a door hinge, upon which our understanding turns in a different direction. I found that hinge in verse 7 and in the phrase, “In the same way, husbands….” It obviously applies to men, not women. By the time I get done with this message, I hope you’ll see, as I have, that this passage actually says more that is challenging, restrictive and restraining for men in most times and cultures, than it does for women. And I hope you’ll see that it calls men and women to a new and different kind of relationship in Christ from the relationships that Peter’s disciples had known before they were Christians.

But to see that, you have to understand something about the time in which Peter wrote these words. Now I know that if I ever say, “The word used in Greek is…..” eyes will glaze over with disinterest. Mine do too. But I want us to remember a phrase in Latin. Its not used by Peter in this passage or anywhere else. His words are in Greek. But this particular phrase would have been in the minds and hearts of everyone hearing Peter’s words. That phrase is Pater familias. In the Latin language of the Roman Empire, it means, “father of the family.” It was a central part of the culture at that time.

If we lived in the Roman empire of Peter’s time, we would have a clear sense of what the Pater familias, or “father of the family,” was supposed to be like. The Pater familias was the oldest surviving male—Dad, or Grandfather, of an extended family. His was all the property in the family, including that of his children and even his grandchildren. His was the power of life and death over children, slaves and even his wife. Or his wives. His power was so great, so total, that if he felt that the newest child born to the family was one mouth too many, or if it was too severely malformed, he could decree that it be left outside, exposed, to die of the elements or be adopted by someone else, often by Christians. And he would be admired for such hardness, not condemned. Because you can’t run an empire on softies. If this Pater familias sounds more like a Mafia kingpin than the father you had, or married, or are, well, its no accident that the Mafia arose from the ruins of the Roman Empire.

That’s the understanding of marriage and family in which Peter wrote these words. The Roman Empire was like a family of sorts, and the emperor was the first pater familias over all the others. So lots of people have assumed that this same kind of male dominance and female subjection is what Peter was encouraging for the church. And you could take it that way, if you speed-read and sleep walk through this passage. Especially if you overlook those hinge words in verse 7, “in the same way, husbands.”

But then that whole understanding begins to break down when first we ask ourselves, Why would Peter write these words about marriage? What’s the need he’s addressing? To prove to unbelievers that the gospel is no threat to the social order and the power pyramid of the Roman empire, as some have suggested? But he’s already said so much in this letter that would anger the pagans, why would he suddenly worry about that when it comes to marriage and family? Besides, unbelievers in that time are not going to know or care much about Peter’s words, let alone read them. Rather, I think its because something has happened to his readers that has thrown the whole meaning of marriage and family up into the air and which has called into question the very relationships between men and women as they knew them before they were Christians. As we saw last week, the same thing happened with slaves, to fill them with a sense of dignity and equality with their masters. Something came into their lives which challenged the whole notion of one person dominating another in a pyramid of power going all the way down from the emperor on top to the slaves on the bottom. And I think that challenging, revolutionary thing was…….the gospel of Jesus Christ.

And now that the gospel implies that men and women, slaves and free, are equal partners in a new domination-free kingdom (as Peter says in verse 7, they are “heirs together of eternal life,”) now that a new community of mutual aid and shared dignity, called the Kingdom of God, has taken shape within the power pyramid of empire, and now that the true Son of God has appeared in the form of a slave and a subject, not a Caesar, what becomes of all these top-down relationships, like marriage and the family? Do we just pitch them out and leave our homes and wives and husbands, especially our unbelieving wives and husbands? Especially since those relationships are so shot-through and corrupted with the imperial infection of domination and abuse that we hardly know how to live within them as Christians? Somebody must have thought so, or else I can’t figure out why Peter would even address this subject. There must have been some danger, some tendency, for someone to take their new liberty and dignity in the gospel as an excuse to throw off the bonds of love and obligation and service and mutual submission that make up every family, especially when their husbands or wives did not join them in this new gospel liberty.

That point about unbelieving spouses is important. The whole passage takes on a different color when you consider that some of the women whom Peter is addressing have husbands who are not believers. He’s not encouraging them to leave those husbands, nor to browbeat them into converting, nor to disrespect or condemn them for not believing, but to love them, just because they do, and its right. And their husbands might see the gospel in action, through their respectful and considerate conduct.

Yet the very fact that these women have chosen to believe differently than their pagan husbands shows that they are not demure, passive, dominated or intimidated. All the more surprising when the Pater familias was expected to be the trend-setter and director of all things in the home. The very fact that Peter is addressing women who have staked a claim to differ from the faith of their husbands tells us that there’s something else going on here than Peter making a case for male domination.

Or take the words about jewelry and braiding the hair. A few of us here grew up with pretty strict dress codes in church about this kind of thing. Occasionally I get phone calls from people asking if we enforce strict dress at Emmanuel Mennonite Church, especially on women. And I can tell that they desperately want me to say Yes. I know what they’re afraid of: the increasingly hyper-sexualized nature of our culture and commerce, how sex is used to sell stuff, especially clothing. It bothers me too, to the point where I’m reluctant to go to the mall or the video store, they are such sexualized places. I tell these callers that we’re all for modesty, although I don’t know, at my age and weight, what all I have to be so modest about. But I also tell them that if we went beyond that and insisted on plain dress or some kind of gray fashion conformity, we would miss out on the beautiful Ethiopian and Eritrean gowns and dresses we see around here, especially for Easter. And that is why you never see those callers here, not even for a visit. Your pastor did not pass their telephone test. But I’m not going to become an officer in any kind of fashion police force. As you’ve probably noticed, I don’t always do so great with my own.

In fact, these words about dress and jewelry which some of us have experienced as controlling and oppressive, I think Peter means as liberating and freeing. Because I suspect that, for women especially, then as now, there are powerful and oppressive forces arrayed around the whole matter of appearance and dress. According to all the fashionistas in the media and the magazines and the malls, we are only as good as we look. So you can never be young enough. Or slim enough. Or “hot” enough. Or up-to-date and ahead of the fashion curve enough. And that pressure feeds into all kinds of distress around image, like self-hatred and eating disorders.

But all that Peter is saying, when he says to let your beauty be other than a matter of dress and jewelry and braided hair, is that there is a more lasting kind of beauty that matters most to the One who matters most: God. This kind of beauty is eternal, unfading, and no external things like fabric or jewelry can add to it or detract from it. In fact, this kind of beauty can grow with age. Stretch marks from childbirth and crow’s feet and wrinkles around the eyes and face from concern and caring, or from smiling and laughter, only serve as signs of this growing beauty within that is wisdom, peace and compassion. And the judge of this beauty is not any man, but rather, our God and Creator in whose image we were made, male and female, whose beauty we reflect. I would hope that all people, men and women, would find Peter’s call to this type of beauty liberating and refreshing, not oppressive.

Now if oppression and male domination were Peter’s concern, then he should have left out verse 7, where he writes, “Husbands, in the same way, be considerate as you live with your wives, and treat them with respect, as the weaker vessel, and as heirs with you of the precious gift of life, so that nothing may hinder your prayers.” And there’s the hinge on which this passage turns into something else than the weapon it has often been made into to keep women “in their place,” so called. That phrase, “in the same way, husbands,” is Peter’s way of saying, “Now men, you do just like what I’ve just suggested to your wives.” What is that? “Treat them with respect.” Respect is what Peter means by “submit” or “be submitted.” It falls way short of the holy, reverent fear that he says is for God alone.

And let’s look at that phrase, “weaker vessel.” Into that phrase has been poured a massive pile of reasonings and logic, so-called, to justify male dominance and male privilege. Women shouldn’t vote, it was once said, because they allegedly are “the weaker sex” and may vote wrongly, for emotional reasons. Sometimes I wish we did let some emotions drive more of our civic behavior, emotions like tenderness, care and concern.

But Peter’s word for “vessel” has nothing to do with being male or female, nor with emotional stability or logical ability, neither of which are the exclusive domain of either men or women. The word Peter uses for “vessel” is often used in the New Testament for “body,” as in, “the human body.” So he’s simply telling men to respect the fact that their wives’ bodies may be physically weaker, unable to beat them at– I don’t know– arm wrestling, and not abuse that greater physical strength.

Now if you’re talking about the average lengths of our lives, or about what it takes to deliver a baby, you could make the case that, in those respects, women are actually stronger vessels than men. But when you’re talking about average upper body strength, men usually have the advantage. It comes in handy for hunting and building. But unfortunately, it is also an advantage that too many men have used to dominate, intimidate and abuse women throughout the ages. And that has poisoned the well of male-female relationships for ages.

As a man, this is one thing I’ve had to come to terms with in those awkward situations, such as when I’m in an elevator and a woman gets on the next floor up, the door closes, we’re alone, and a look of fear flashes through her eyes. Or on the sidewalk in downtown St. Paul, I find that I’m walking behind a woman half a block ahead, she hears the sound of my steps, and she turns to look and see if I’m gaining on her. Again, the look of fear has actually made me stop and pretend that I really am interested in the vacuum cleaners in the storefront window. Or I’ve even crossed the street, just to prove that I’m harmless, and that I’m not going to exploit my size and strength. Okay, my relative size and strength. I’m not aware that I’m all that scary-looking. Maybe its my big hairy eyebrows.

Or maybe its just all that violent history between men and women.

All that Peter is saying, in his phrase about “the weaker vessel,” only reinforces what he says about living together in respect. Men, be aware of the intimidating and dominating power of your normally superior physical strength and don’t go there; don’t flex it and flaunt it or use it to intimidate or dominate. Be just as aware of the greater social power and freedom you often have, as men, and don’t abuse them to the detriment of your marriages and families. Accept gracefully the limitations on your power that come with living respectfully with someone who often has less physical and social power than you. Accept gracefully the limitations on your liberty that come with loving and living with someone who may be pregnant or nursing. That’s why I say that this passage may actually demand more restraint, respect and discipline of men than it does of women.

And with that we come out in a different place than when we started. All these times we thought Peter was demanding so much of women, when we see that, once he turns the tables toward men, he’s actually demanding at least as much of us men, if not more. More by way of restraint and respect. And all so that “your prayers may not be hindered.”

And with those words, “that your prayers may not be hindered,” we come to the main point of this whole passage: that there might be true spiritual intimacy between men and women, husband and wife. That the marriage and the home might even be something of a church.

Have you ever tried to pray when you were mad at someone? Or when you knew someone was mad at you? Or worse, have you tried to pray with someone whom you were mad at, or whom you knew was mad at you? It doesn’t work, does it? It doesn’t work either when your prayer partner has reason to fear you, or is treated by you as your inferior. Or when they treat you as an inferior. Prayer together—at least Christian prayer– only works when there is equality, and emotional and spiritual honesty between us.

That’s why this passage is all the more surprising for its time. Remember the Pater familias, the head of the household who was modeled after something like the emperor or a mafia don? In that day and age, it was not expected that Pater familias and the wives and women of his household would experience much of any kind of spiritual intimacy and equality. It was typically expected that men would have their own religious societies and more likely share spiritual intimacy with other men. The men in their army unit. Or the men in their business network. Women, considered as underlings, sometimes almost as property, might share spiritual intimacy with other women, women in their household, or women in their commercial networks, or in their religious societies. But it would be rare and surprising if they experienced that with other men, including their husbands.

But its what Peter expects of the church—the household of God– and of the household of marriage and family. Indeed, with these words, “that your prayers might not be hindered,” Peter has served notice of two surprising, block-busting things. The first is that, if you’re married, your relationship with God is not something separate from your relationship with your spouse. In fact, your relationship with God is only as good as your commitment to your relationship with your spouse. You can’t respect one and disrespect the other.

The second thing: By making prayer together so central to the marriage bond, Peter has served notice that the household of marriage and family is not only a part of the church, it is a church. A church within the church, a household of faith within the household of faith. We spend a lot of time and energy figuring out how the church can serve the family, when really, the family is a church within the church. And just as the wider church doesn’t work when its members are arranged from high to low in order of value and power, so the household church fails and betrays its mission if its members claim power and worth at each other’s expense.

A beautiful example of how a family can be a church is when the missionary family whom we support in India visited us a few years ago and explained that they had already planted a church in their fair city, even in a Muslim neighborhood. Because as soon as they were there and began worshiping the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, and praying to him, at least in their apartment, they had effectively planted a church. Now all that remains is for others in their neighborhood to join them. And that may only be a matter of time because of 1) their prayers together, and 2) the gospel quality of their life together. And their love. You only have to observe the tender, respectful and mutually-supportive way that husband and wife and mother and father relate to each other and share their burdens to know that the church in their home is a wonderful start on a church to come.

Whether we’re married or not, the same principle still applies: as it was in the beginning, when man and woman were partners and heirs together of the Garden, each one equally a reflection of God’s image that complemented the other, so it is now and forever, that men and women are partners and joint-heirs together in the Kingdom of God, each one complementary and necessary to the other, in the church, as well as in the home that is also a church.

The Journey of Forgiveness

Monday, October 15th, 2007 by mswora

I don’t know what to say that can add to the following statement issued by some members and leaders of the Amish community in Nickel Mines, PA., on the recent first anniversary of the deaths by shooting of five young schoolgirls and the wounding of others:

Forgiveness is a journey….you need help from your community of faith and from God, and sometimes even from counselors, to make and hold on to a decision to not become a hostage to hostility. Hostility destroys community.”

The decision of the Amish community members to forgive has not been met with universal approval. What right have the living and the unharmed to forgive an assault against others who died or were wounded? some have asked. But it was an assault against the entire community, when you factor in the familial, neighborly, and religious connections among all the Amish of the region, even of the country. This act of corporate forgiveness is an important reminder of our connectedness and a necessary challenge to a stubbornly individualistic culture.

But the approach that the Amish take, not to allow themselves to “become a hostage to hostility,” turns that question on its head. The value of forgiveness is not only in what it does for the assailant (or in this case, his surviving family, who have received much support from the Amish) but in what it does for those who have been injured, even indirectly. While we might be able to make a legal or philosophical case for the “right” to hold a grudge or to avenge an insult or an assault, it is a right no better than one’s “right,” so-called, to hit oneself with a hammer or to drink poison. In fact, withholding forgiveness has been likened by sages to “drinking poison and hoping that someone else will die.”

Of equally stunning insight is the admission with which this statement begins, that “forgiveness is a journey,” and that “you need help.” This is a transparent and disarming admission of the fact that forgiveness has been no more automatic or easy for the Amish than it is for the rest of us. If ever we have determined to forgive someone, only to find our anger rising again and again, we are not alone. But we often differ with the Amish in this: don’t we often think of forgiveness as a destination we arrive at after the pain of the injury subsides with time and insight? The Amish, by contrast, seem to see the decision to forgive as the beginning of the journey, not its end.

And could it be that forgiveness does not always preclude anger? Rather, in forgiveness we work to transfer our grief, anger and outrage from the assailant to the assault, from the enemy to the enmity between us. Some actions are indeed worthy of great outrage and grief, some for the long periods of time that it would take to work toward resolution and healing. God forbid that we would come to any cheap and easy peace with such atrocities as what happened at Nickel Mines, or Columbine High School or Dachau. But part of that resolution and healing involves coming to see the enemy and assailant as someone in just as much need of healing and grace as ourselves, and finally even, to dare to pray and labor for his or her healing, as well as for our own. In this dark and difficult mystery we enter the very heart of God and the meaning of the cross. As Jacob said to his brother Esau, after years of bitter estrangement and separation between them, “Seeing your face is like seeing the face of God (Genesis 33: 10).”