About Me
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
The End of the Age of Church Bureaucracy?
This post begins an occasional
series of posts on the church as we move further into the 21st
century.
A friend of mine recently provoked my thoughts suggesting
that, when the history of the church in the 20th century is written,
scholars will see that bureaucracy was the defining theme of the century. The
energy and vitality of the church expressed itself in bureaucratic
institutions, vehicles for achieving the mission of the church in an age of
institution building in the broader culture.
For Mennonites, Albert Keim’s biography of church statesman
Harold S. Bender describes this age as it emerged in the first half of the 20th
century. John Sharp’s coming biography of Orie Miller book ends the age by telling
the story of another of our great institution builders. The alphabet soup of
Mennonite institutions filled many of us with a sense of identity and clarity
about what it means to be a Mennonite.
Mennonite Central Committee and its bureaucracy changed my
life, introduced me to my wife, and served as a door for me (and countless
others) to the Mennonite church. I cannot repay this debt. These institutions
shaped many of our lives and have touched millions with the love of Christ.
These institutions enabled our gifts to flourish and bless the world. These
institutions were necessary for the vitality of the church. Yet my friend
suggests the age of institutional bureaucracy is history, belonging to the 20th
century, as institutions leave the scene to make way for the vitality and
mission of the church to express itself in new ways.
Another friend, a conference leader, told me about Marco
Guete, Conference Minister in Southeast Conference, who deliberately downsized
the conference as a matter of vision, recognizing the conference would not
support conference bureaucracy beyond the need for work with pastoral
transitions. Whether or not you agree with this vision, it represents the kind
of decisions facing us in the years ahead. What is the purpose of conferences,
denominations and accompanying agencies and institutions? For Mennonites, the
movement of congregations and conferences in and out of Mennonite Church USA during
the current crisis will likely crystalize and hasten these decisions.
These times challenge us, calling us to a willingness to let
go of what may no longer be useful to the mission of God, and open ourselves to
the new things God is doing and will do among us.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Peace, peace, when there is no peace
The mural depicted here is from the Kansas State House in
Topeka, and shows a raging, almost maniacal John Brown, the fiery abolitionist,
with a Bible one hand, and a rifle in the other. The fuel for Brown’s violent
rage was the institutionalized violence and injustice of slavery. Even for
those who believe violence is a useful tool in the service of justice making,
Brown engaged in violence in ways that were not rational, sometimes raiding (jayhawking)
the farms of Missouri residents (the nearest slave state) who had no slaves.
Brown is a complex person, and while I don’t condone his
violent choices, I admire his intense opposition to institutionalized violence.
And while his raid on Harper’s Ferry was a tragic fiasco, his death by hanging
was a catalyst in the coalescence of northern opposition to slavery. What is a
Mennonite pastor to think about such a fellow?
My abolitionist and Underground Railroad activist ancestor,
Quaker minister Thomas Frazier, likely would not have condoned Brown’s
violence, but some of his fellow Iowa Quakers provided Brown with critical
support. Frazier and other Quakers were quite willing to violate the Fugitive
Slave Act, which got them in trouble with the law, but going into slave states
and bringing freed slaves back across the border was another matter. Brown and
other raiders would do so, and once slaves were across the border, Quaker
Underground Railroaders were willing to help out. The relationship between the
likes of John Brown and the likes of my great, great, great, great grandfather,
were complex. While they disagreed on methods of confronting slavery, they
shared abhorrence of that form of institutionalized violence. Those Quakers
seemed aware that peace in the abstract was not peace at all.
Some of the most surprising conversations in my life were
with those advocating an armed struggle against oppression in the Philippines.
I say surprising because it seems like another life time. As a pacifist these
discussions quickly focused on my position that armed struggle against
oppression is wrong. Always. The return from my interlocutors was my pacifism
is rooted in privilege and is a luxury, enjoyed on my part by failing to confront the
institutionalized social, economic and political violence against the poor of
the Philippines, which is to say the majority of the people. Furthermore my
place of privilege is sustained by violence. My pacifism is both disingenuous and
hypocritical.
Those conversations do not change my conviction that a “refusal
to bear the sword” is the faithful Christian ethic. But they do make me highly
suspicious of peace in the abstract, of cheap peace, as if we are morally pure
just by throwing the word around. Without a context, the word peace becomes not
only weak, but dangerous, in that it can be used as a mask hiding greater and
deeper violence than that which it claims to oppose, or build barriers to
conversations which might increase understanding.
As long as peace remains nothing more than an abstract concept,
it isn’t peace at all. As Jeremiah and Ezekiel would say, it amounts to shouting peace when there is no peace.
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
And Wednesday after Jeopardy!
The New York Times reported today that televised prime time presidential addresses are mostly a thing of the past. Fifty years ago, if a president wanted to communicate an important message to as much of the nation as possible, an Oval Office speech interrupting regular network programming was the way to go. Now? Not so much. We have so many other ways to occupy our time than watch the president, from hundreds (thousands?) of cable channels, to the infinite world of the internet.
Compared to the good old days when network television dominated American screen time, a fraction of us watch live prime time presidential speeches today. Does this mean people don't care about the presidency? What the president says? Thinks? Perhaps. Has the president given up trying to communicate with the American people? Certainly not.
We learn what's on the president's mind through a variety of media, some of which did not exist five years ago, and often on our own time and at our own convenience.
At the grocery store once, a woman stopped me and asked if I was Phil Waite. "You don't know me," she said, "and I attend Waterford Mennonite, but I watch the College Mennonite telecast at Greencroft every Wednesday after Jeopardy."
The worship equivalent of the prime time Oval Office speech is the sanctuary on Sunday morning. But like the presidential speeches on network television, the saints gathered on Sunday morning are an increasingly small percentage of the whole worshipping community. At College Mennonite, most of us engaged in worship are not in the sanctuary, and many of us or not participating on Sunday morning.
Some of us listen on the radio before coming to Sunday School. Others watch at Greencroft. Travelers sometimes listen to the WGCS broadcast on their smart phones. Snow birds gather in Florida to watch on-line. Some of us on Sunday morning have never been to College Mennonite, or even to Goshen.
I put on my chicken little voice from time to time and complain about the decline in worship attendance. In some ways decline is a more hopeful frame because it leaves open the possibility of going in reverse, restoring what used to be. But restoring what used to be is not a choice available to us. Not only has the world around us changed, we have changed. Maybe a more helpful response is to take a step back and observe change, not decline, and to consider what new opportunities these changes bring.
Compared to the good old days when network television dominated American screen time, a fraction of us watch live prime time presidential speeches today. Does this mean people don't care about the presidency? What the president says? Thinks? Perhaps. Has the president given up trying to communicate with the American people? Certainly not.
We learn what's on the president's mind through a variety of media, some of which did not exist five years ago, and often on our own time and at our own convenience.
At the grocery store once, a woman stopped me and asked if I was Phil Waite. "You don't know me," she said, "and I attend Waterford Mennonite, but I watch the College Mennonite telecast at Greencroft every Wednesday after Jeopardy."
The worship equivalent of the prime time Oval Office speech is the sanctuary on Sunday morning. But like the presidential speeches on network television, the saints gathered on Sunday morning are an increasingly small percentage of the whole worshipping community. At College Mennonite, most of us engaged in worship are not in the sanctuary, and many of us or not participating on Sunday morning.
Some of us listen on the radio before coming to Sunday School. Others watch at Greencroft. Travelers sometimes listen to the WGCS broadcast on their smart phones. Snow birds gather in Florida to watch on-line. Some of us on Sunday morning have never been to College Mennonite, or even to Goshen.
I put on my chicken little voice from time to time and complain about the decline in worship attendance. In some ways decline is a more hopeful frame because it leaves open the possibility of going in reverse, restoring what used to be. But restoring what used to be is not a choice available to us. Not only has the world around us changed, we have changed. Maybe a more helpful response is to take a step back and observe change, not decline, and to consider what new opportunities these changes bring.
Thursday, July 4, 2013
Phoenix
I confess. When it comes to these massive national Mennonite gatherings, I am a cynic. Why? For whom? What do we accomplish? Given my cynicism, imagine! Phoenix 2013 is a pleasant surprise. I'm having a rich time.
Planners of gatherings like this are not known for being gutsy, making waves and courting controversy. But so it is here. By focusing heavily on immigration as a biblical, theological, ecclesiological and spiritual issue, our leaders give us something substantial to discuss in the delegate sessions, hallways, and on the steaming sidewalks.
Other highlights include a blessing of Mennonite pastors in worship yesterday, which was for me a rich and powerful experience, seeing our CMC youth entering into worship with sincerity and joy, serendipitous connections with brothers and sisters in the church, concerts, plays, workshops and activities that are engaging and thought provoking.
July in Phoenix? It's a great place to be this year.
These truths are not self evident
July 4 has me thinking about patriotism, the Declaration of Independence, and the meaning of the common good.
Defining Patriotism
The word patriotism evokes a variety of images for me: support the troops bumper stickers, flag waving, pictures of historic figures and moments, people singing patriotic songs, fighter jets over head, soldiers in uniform. These images reflect an understanding of patriotism as a political (or in our times economic) ideology and its defense. But what if we were to define patriotism as support and nurture of the common good.
The problem, of course, is that our society does not have a shared understanding of the common good. As Christians, though, we do define a common good. Using a biblical perspective of the common good, we could say teachers and those working for an educated populace are patriotic. We could say John D. Yoder is patriotic for his tireless work developing the Pumpkinvine Trail, which has contributed mightily to the peace (shalom) of our city. We could say that everyone working with and for La Casa is patriotic, along with those working for clean water, clean air, healthy food, and affordable medical care.
This July 4, I am claiming all of us working for the common good as patriots.
The Declaration of Independence
Thomas Jefferson failed to practice what he put to pen and paper in the Declaration of Independence, indeed by his own admission. Still, the Declaration is a remarkable document, and I have a great deal of affection for it. I do take issue with one of Jefferson's assumptions. "These truths" are not self evident.
The notion that all people are created equal, and are endowed by their creator with certain inalienable rights did not enter the historical trajectory of Western culture through philosophical reflection either modern or antique, nor through scientific observation, but through God's revelation in scripture. Male and female God created them. In the image of God he created them.
Outside of the biblical witness, at least in the Western cultural tradition, little or no evidence exists to support claims of equality or the universal endowment of rights.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
Book Review: The Unintended Reformation
Every so often a book scrambles the ways people look at
history, culture, society, economics, politics and church. Brad S. Gregory’s The Unintended Reformation is such a
book. Gregory, a professor of early modern history at Notre Dame, argues in six
long chapters and a conclusion, that the secular society in which we
increasingly live is the unintended by-product of the Reformation.
Gregory hits ideological capitalism particularly hard as a
product of secularism, made possible by the exile of Christian faith from
public life, and whose value of acquisitiveness rejects the historic Christian
critique of avarice and greed.
Academia comes under scrutiny for its belief in knowledge
for knowledge sake, rather than articulating a vision for social virtues, and
educating students to that end. I noted that the Goshen College emphasis on “building
the world peace by peace” is a delightful contrast.
Gregory claims the church has either been banished from the
social and political realm, or has withdrawn willingly in order to survive, as
has happened in our own tradition. The modern secular nation state is left,
unaccountable to higher authority, with no resources to fashion an ethic of
good (that is a standard for what a flourishing human community might be, such
as shalom), but rather has emphasized an ethic of human rights. Ironically, the
latter has roots in the biblical understanding of human beings in God’s image,
even as secular states reject the bible as a source for shaping public life.
Modern secular states control the church, and define the
scope of its power and authority in public life. Churches are accountable to
it, not the other way around. The church does not get to decide whether or when
the state may go to war or use lethal force, but the state may demand that the
church and its members participate and respect its institutions of violence.
The secular state has domesticized faith.
Gregory is an equal opportunity offender, and every thinking
reader will take issue with some aspect of a book whose scope is so grand. The
book has been reviewed widely, with diverse opinions. For all, though, it is a
book to be reckoned with, and will
scramble ways of seeing for every reader.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Why I am a Mennonite, Part 2
Why I am
a Mennonite, Part 2 (Part 1 appeared in the CMC Newsletter recently)
Why am I
a Mennonite? One answer is, because of my family heritage. The name Waite looks
afar at the Germanic names which fill the Mennonite world and form the building
blocks of the Mennonite game. But I am claiming Mennonite heritage.
Joe
Springer, as Jonathan's mentor, as well as archivist and genealogist, has
unearthed our family ancestry, both Beth's and mine. Her book is thin, and she
seems to be a cousin to half College Mennonite Church. My book is thick and I'm
related to no one at College Mennonite.
I am
watching Mennonite life from the outside at times. Yes, I am a leader in the
Mennonite Church. Yes, I have been a Mennonite pastor for 14 years. Yes I have
half a dozen Mennonite institutions in my past. Still, my experience is that of
the in-law at a family reunion, struggling to comprehend the unwritten rules,
navigating a peculiar culture with its own set of values, customs and
practices. To be clear, the work of finding my place in this family is mine,
but I appreciate help wherever I can get it.
In his
excavation of Jonathan's ancestry, Joe gives me a great gift, and a new window
on why I am a Mennonite. It's my heritage. Perhaps I am Mennonite by heritage
as much as Beth, or any Bontrager, Friesen or Yoder. Joe's digging in the Waite
family garden reveals an ideal genealogical ecology for a Mennonite minister to
sprout and grow.
RogerWilliams, Anne Hutchinson and Mary Dyer (above, at the gallows), 17th century pioneers in religious
freedom, are 11x great grandparents. Thomas Frazier, anchor of five generations
of Quaker abolitionists is a 4x great grandfather. BD Austin, a circuit writing
Cumberland Presbyterian preacher in Texas, is a great great grandfather. Methodist
pastor Charlie Brown is a great grandfather, and his namesake, my father Chuck,
is ordained in the Wesleyan Holiness tradition. This eclectic mix of Christians
wrestled with issues of peace and justice, religious freedom, the relationship
of church and state, how to build Christian community, and how to live
faithfully in challenging circumstances.
My unique
Mennonite genealogical ecology now joins the many Mennonite genealogical
ecologies at College Mennonite Church, strengthening, broadening, changing it
as each of us do when we join this body. In particular, the genealogical
ecology of my ancestors is united in marriage, and in the flesh and blood of
two boys, with a genealogical ecology, fertilized with the stories and lives of
16th century Swiss Anabaptists and their descendants.
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