Peace Blend @ Third Way Cafe (Third Way Media)

A Mennonite in Canada's Defence Department - Stories

Tue, 3 Nov 2009 07:00:00 EST

Editor’s note: While most of Third Way Café’s “Peace Story of the month” articles are regarding people who are still living, this obituary/reflection regarding a man who brought a different kind of peace perspective to Canada’s government is worthy of a second look. It first appeared in the Oct. 5, 2009 Canadian Mennonite.

I have always been convinced that the Canadian intelligence community is a vital element in our contribution to world peace and security, particularly in the area of arms control and disarmament.

By Bill Janzen, Ottawa

Jacob (Jake) Koop, who died July 2, 2009 at the age of 86, (born 1923) was unique in that he served in the senior levels of the Department of National Defence in Canada (DND) for most of his working years, while also giving leadership in a Mennonite church.

Born in Ukraine, Koop moved to Canada as a child and completed high school at a Mennonite school. When his World War II “call-up” came, he joined the army, having concluded that he could not honestly accept all the implications of a conscientious objector stance. Still, he prayed that he would never have to kill anyone and he was always grateful that his prayer was answered.

After the war, he studied science and later pursued Ph.D. studies in Montreal; but then he was invited to a position with the Defence Research Board in Ottawa.

Over the next 20 years, Koop worked with international and nuclear issues. One task was monitoring and assessing the former Soviet Union’s nuclear activities as well as its capabilities and possible intentions. The other task was to assess the likelihood that certain other countries might try to acquire nuclear weapons. He became Canada’s government expert in these areas.

In the 1970’s he worked on policy, specifically identifying the long-term global framework for the pursuit of Canadian security. This led him to study questions of energy, agriculture, technology, communications, minerals, different political scenarios and other factors. Now he interacted with leading think tanks such as World Future Society and the Worldwatch Institute. His posting at the Canadian Embassy, Washington, D.C., and a sabbatical year at Harvard University also focused on questions of defence. He contributed to the Limited Test Ban Treaty of 1963, which banned nuclear testing in the atmosphere.

In his memoirs he wrote, “I have always been convinced that the Canadian intelligence community is a vital element in our contribution to world peace and security, particularly in the area of arms control and disarmament. Hence, I have always felt very good about working in scientific intelligence, particularly in areas of nuclear weapons testing, the stability of the U.S. – U.S.S.R. strategic relationship and nuclear weapons proliferation.”

Alongside his work at DND, he strongly supported Ottawa Mennonite Church, and was one of its charter members in 1959. He also did a fair amount of preaching when the church was without a minster.

Koop was very open to dialogue about his work. He felt his stance represented a legitimate thread in Mennonite history and theology. Certainly his work was oriented towards the prevention of war and the preservation of peace. At times he seemed to wish that the church could give him a fuller blessing. But he stayed in the church. He liked its global embrace, even if some of it words about peace seemed to him a bit narrow.

Used by permission of the author and Canadian Mennonite.

Turning Tanks into Combines - Stories

Sat, 3 Oct 2009 07:00:00 EST

by Ray Friesen

Marvin Wiens proudly flies a Palestinian flag on his combine as he harvests durum wheat on his and his neighbours’ farms.

For Wiens, flying the Palestinian flag is one small way of helping bring to reality the biblical dream of the time when swords will be turned into plowshares and tanks into combines.

Asked why, he replies, “I fly this flag in recognition of a people who have lost their freedom and lost their farming livelihood, two things I cherish very much and have the privilege to continue to enjoy in Canada.”

Like many Canadians, Wiens says his views of the creation of the State of Israel were shaped by the media. But last year he began reading the stories sent home by Rachelle Friesen, a young adult from his home congregation, Emmaus Mennonite Church in Wymark, who was working with Wi’am: The Palestinian Conflict Resolution Center. Her stories told about the Palestinian experience of living under Israeli occupation in the West Bank.

Marvin Wiens' combine at work. Photo by Ray Friesen.

Then, Alex Awad, a Palestinian Baptist pastor and professor at Bethlehem Bible College, spoke at Mennonite Central Committee Saskatchewan meetings last November, offering his perspective on the current Israeli/Palestine situation.

Wiens has also supplemented this with his reading of Blood Brothers by Elias Chacour, Archbishop of Galilee in the Melkite Greek Catholic Church. Wiens took particular note of the story of Chacour’s father, who originally welcomed the forming of the State of Israel as a fulfillment of biblical prophecy. But then, Chacour’s father lost his land and its well-kept olive orchard when the Israeli army tricked him into leaving. To support his family, Chacour Sr. ended up working for the man who was given the orchard, tending his own trees for someone else while being paid a hired hand’s wages.

As a farmer and landowner himself, Wiens has a sense of what that must have been like. “That story is just absolutely heart-rending.” he says. “And still, after all the people experienced, Elias Chacour has become a peace advocate!” Wiens feels strongly that Mennonites have to tell the Palestinian story so that people hear both sides of what has happened, and is happening, in Israel/Palestine. For Wiens, flying the Palestinian flag is one small way of helping bring to reality the biblical dream of the time when swords will be turned into plowshares and tanks into combines.

By Ray Friesen, Wymark, Saskatchewan.

Published originally in Canadian Mennonite, October 13, 2008. www.canadianmennonite.org Used by permission.

Encouraging service as peacemaking for the next generation - Stories

Tue, 8 Sep 2009 07:00:00 EST

By Ron Goertzen

I grew up in a small farming community in Henderson, Nebraska. I was the second of four children, very sheltered. After completing high school, I went to a Mennonite church college for two years. At that point, I entered PAX—a Christian service program to promote peace through service at various locations around the world.

During World War II my father was in the Civilian Public Service program. He served in mental institutions, as well as forestry programs in California. That probably was a big influence on my decision to go into PAX, along with seeing all the returning PAX guys from my church. They came back and reported on their experiences.

Congo was by far the largest program at the time. We were farmed out to the Mennonite mission [stations] where we did agricultural extension work. After we had learned the local tribal language, the work entailed going out on bicycles on extension routes. We would stay out four to six days at a time in the villages and kind of explain and help them understand the connection of health to protein intake.

We would encourage them in the raising of small animal projects. The biggest thing we pushed was rabbits. We also had chickens, goats, even pigeons. During those four, five six days, we would cover about 120 miles on bicycle, just me and a Congolese counterpart, visiting with villagers, getting to understand them better, as well as asking what their needs were, their perspectives, and see if there were ways that we could plug into that.

By this time I was pretty realistic, already realizing that I would leave Africa more or less like I had found it, and that I wouldn’t be its salvation. I wasn’t going to significantly change Africa, but Africa would significantly change me.

We tend to be very selfish as parents. We like to launch them, but then we like to be able to see them daily.

I was fascinated by learning a different language, actually a couple of different languages. That shaped me and my world view. It definitely made the world much more complicated. I couldn’t come back with simple answers: you should try this. It was such a foundational experience that just about the rest of my life has been built on that foundation.

I always longed to go back. I thought it would be neat to see this project, to see what I had accomplished there. But as the years went on, I came to the realization that perhaps I had failed. Congo had changed me significantly, and that part was not a failure. But as far as me leaving a footprint, I had left none. But in going back I was shocked, at how the relationships were much more profound than what I ever could have guessed or imagined. I was able to see a spring that we had tapped as a water resource still being used. One person told me of over 20 rabbit projects that were still going after 30 years. All of those things are just an incredible encouragement for me, having realized that I had left much more of a footprint in the Congo than I could ever have dreamed.

I think it influenced my children. Wes is in Bolivia right now. Jay just finished a third time going to India and is now in Kazakhstan. My daughter is probably going overseas next year. And people are amazed, they affirm you, but they really don’t want that for their own children. I find, in a lot of cases they’re too fearful.

There are no guarantees that a service experience will be positive or even a good experience for them. If I look at my life, I see several legs of a tower. I see the influence of my church, community and family. I see my commitment to Christ. I see my marriage to my wife, Linda, and also my service experience, I mean, the whole tower would crumble if any one of those legs were taken out. My service experiences were a leg of that tower that was extremely influential as far as giving me focus, a better understanding of the larger world.

We need more of a culture of encouragement through the whole church for young people to do this kind of service. A young person isn’t often going to grow up in a vacuum and decide to do something as altruistic as go overseas and “sacrifice” a couple years of their life. The influence of returning PAX guys in my life was so significant. It has to be a culture of service, rather than just throwing a brochure or an opportunity at somebody in a vacuum, because that just isn’t gonna stick. It has to be something that when a parent dedicates their child in front of the church, and they come to an agreement that yes, I will send my child to the uttermost parts of the world, they have to mean it, and they have to follow through. I think it’s an easy thing to say, but it’s a difficult thing to truly encourage and bless what your children do. There’s some risk involved and we tend to be very selfish as parents. We like to launch them, but then we like to be able to see them daily, or we like to remain in touch and not have to wonder how long’s it gonna be till Jay e-mails back from Kazakhstan?

Ron Goertzen participated in a TV documentary produced by Mennonite Media which premiering last year on Hallmark Channel titled Pax Service: An Alternative to War. Pax was a MCC Mennonite/Brethren service program that went from 1951 to 1976. About 1200 young men served in this life-changing program. This is an excerpt from Ron’s interview about how service affected his total life.

Drawing Trees - Stories

Sat, 1 Aug 2009 07:00:00 EST

This week I participated in STAR, or Strategies for Trauma Awareness and Resilience, a workshop offered by the Center for Justice and Peacebuilding at Eastern Mennonite University (EMU). I was familiar with STAR, and I was eager to learn more about trauma and its physical, emotional, and spiritual effects and its linkages to violence.

Over time, I've become sensitive to these stories of human suffering. I have begun to avoid TV journalism, movies, and anything I fear will contain more violence.

I am familiar with STAR because I also teach at EMU. And while teaching is fulfilling to me, my subject matter is intense, and sometimes even painful. I teach about conflict, violence and injustice. I also teach about how to build peace, and the great capacity that humans have to love and do good in the world. However, like social workers, police officers, humanitarian assistance workers, fire fighters, military personnel, and others, my occupation of teaching about conflict and violence forces me to look directly at human suffering caused by human cruelty. My subject area exposes me and my students to realities that produce strong feelings that are often difficult to process.

Over time, I've become sensitive to these stories of human suffering. I have begun to avoid TV journalism, movies, and anything I fear will contain more violence. Witnessing violence in videos I use in classes, for example, has begun to affect me in the same way that witnessing violence or trauma first-hand affects any of us--through physical responses in the body. The physical response I feel in the pit of my stomach when I encounter more suffering is a trauma response--even when caused by indirect or vicarious experiences of trauma.

The traumas we experience are different for everyone. For some, a life-threatening illness, the loss of someone close, or a dangerous situation can cause trauma, but what causes trauma is different for each of us, and for some of us, the trauma may even be caused by something that others might see as trivial. But the physical response is real. It is the body's response to being overwhelmed.

However we experience trauma, whether directly or vicariously, our body attempts to respond by preparing us to physically deal with the threat. These physiological responses prepare us to fight, to run (flight), and sometimes to freeze. When freezing happens, the trauma energy gets trapped in our bodies and we may use that energy to act in (in self-damaging ways--risky behaviors, alcohol, drugs, depression, cutting) or to act out (through violence against others--child abuse, aggressive behavior, direct physical violence, and emotional violence). These cycles of violence against self and others are prevalent in our society, and examples can be found at personal, community, national, and international levels. But, these cycles can be broken, and it was my interest in learning more about breaking cycles of violence and learning strategies for trauma resilience that lead me to STAR.

The personal traumas shared about in class were difficult to hear. Some were so painful that we shared only silence and tears. In my unfamiliar role as student, sitting at a table, I found it difficult to still my body and I sought acceptable ways to deal with the trauma energy. I used the play dough, coloring sheets and colored pencils provided by the STAR facilitators, and I enjoyed the massage and yoga options provided, but I was still distracted and tense.

Finally on day three, I started drawing. I drew and drew and drew. By the end of the week, I realized that most of my drawings were from nature … a tree branch, a bowl of fruit, flowers of every shape and size. But, all week, most of all, I had been drawing trees--branches, leaves of many colors and shapes, different types of trees, and finally a tree with a gnarled knot in the center, a memory of a tree that stands in my backyard. Ten years ago we had caused it trauma by cutting off a very large branch (about 18" in diameter) and it has been very slowly growing over the damage. Today when I looked at the tree, I realized the scar had shrunk to only several inches across. The tree has remained healthy on the outside while bearing and healing that injury.

Just like my own traumas and the experiences of trauma of each of the participants in our classroom, the tree in my yard has been repairing the injury. And though the tree has been resilient, healing has taken time. The hopeful message of STAR is that like trees, humans are resilient too, and we can learn strategies that help our bodies through the healing process and out of the cycles of violence in which we get trapped.

For me, the process of going through STAR, crying with others, telling my story and drawing trees has helped moved me further along my own path to healing. I'm still avoiding TV, but I've been able to talk about some of my past traumas without the familiar physical responses (a sign that the trauma energy has been sufficiently processed to pass on out of my body). And I'm at peace as I think about teaching again in the fall.

Gloria Rhodes chairs the department of Applied Social Sciences at Eastern Mennonite University where she coordinates the Peacebuilding and Development undergraduate major. This story first appeared at EMU's Web site.

Kenyans Work at Intertribal Peacemaking - Stories

Wed, 1 Jul 2009 07:00:00 EST

By Jewel Showalter

YES team member Taylor Weidman (left) chats with some of the Chepilat pastors who came to the reconciliation meeting.

Last spring, the charred remains of homes and businesses lined the streets of Chepilat, a town in the borderlands west of Nairobi where the Kalengin and Kisi tribes rub up against one another.

For years they had lived in peace, but following the uncertainties of the disputed 2008 election, the friction burst into flames leaving death, destruction, and hatred in its wake.

“But God still works miracles!” said Lois Boyer, an Eastern Mennonite Missions (EMM) worker in the country. “On March 30 we witnessed an amazing reconciliation meeting.”

Last December, four young men on a Youth Evangelism Service (YES) team, Colin Good, Stefan Wessman, Brook Musselman, and Taylor Weidman, came to live in Chepilat to help lay the groundwork for a possible reconciliation meeting.

For five months the YES team worked alongside Kenyan Mennonite church planter, George Nyahude to plant the Chepilat Mennonite Outreach Church and to befriend church leaders from both sides of the conflict.

“Our thought was that if the church was not united across tribal boundaries, we couldn't expect others to be,” said YES team member Wessman.

As they built relationships in the town, the YES team met with pastors from both sides separately to discuss past events and what would lead to peace and reconciliation. After lots of tea, conversation, and inter-tribal relationship building, the team invited all the area pastors to the March 30 meeting.

The Mennonite church planned to host the day-long reconciliation meeting but by 11:30 a.m. only a few pastors from one side had showed up. Finally by 1 p.m., to the YES team’s great relief, pastors from both groups as well as Mennonite leaders from Kisumu had arrived. About 50 people were present.

Pastor George moderated the meeting and introduced Clair Good, the EMM Africa Representative. Using Romans 12:11-21 as a backdrop, Good told stories of injustice and forgiveness, then paired off the group, trying to mix up the different tribes.

Good invited the pairs to share with one another what they thought the Scripture was saying. Then when the group reassembled, people shared what they heard their partners saying.

“The Holy Spirit was definitely in those conversations,” Wessman said. “It was an open time of honest sharing about the uprising. People took responsibility for their own sins, listened to each other and to God. By the time we broke for lunch, there was tangible excitement in the air. Something was going to happen!”

After the discussion, Mennonite bishop Clyde Agola spoke along with Pastor Kennedy from the National Council of Churches of Kenya. Both expressed the need for peace and unity among Christian leaders.

Before the day ended the group decided to form the Chepilat Interdenominational Peace and Reconciliation Organization – a pastors’ fellowship that will continue working for peace and reconciliation.

“We knew God had moved in a big way, to bring all these men from hostile sides together to work for peace,” Wessman said. “It was just incredible.”

The reconciliation meeting has also had a profound impact on the young church plant.

“We've seen the light of God in our church here,” Wessman said. “The following Sunday we had one of the best services I've ever been part of. It seemed God was smiling down and saying ‘just wait, you haven't seen anything yet.’

“We were filled with joy and excitement as people crammed the sanctuary. The energy was contagious. Energy built as the service progressed. Before, during, and after each introduction the enthusiastic church members clapped, shouted, cheered, and praised God just for bringing them to the service regardless of their tribal backgrounds.”

The YES team was especially encouraged to see many familiar faces – people they’d learned to know while visiting in the town, teaching English in the local elementary school, working with the church youth group, and playing soccer.

“We didn’t have any special training in peacemaking,” said YES team member Brook Musselman. “All we did was call people together and share our passion for peace. It felt like Luke 10 where Jesus sent out the 72. They didn’t have much special training either. But their relationship with Jesus was enough.”

A Stranger Hugged Me - Stories

Mon, 1 Jun 2009 07:00:00 EST

A stranger hugged me the other day in front of my house. This wasn't the kind of thing I'd come to expect on the streets of Houston. So I'm still soaking it all in.

After a day on the town, I was giving my 18-month-old son a snack of apples and cheese, his favorite. He was squeaking and giggling while I sliced away, and didn't notice a thing as my wife said from our front door, "There's someone screaming outside." With her standing vigil, Malakai happily nibbling away, and me relaxing in socks and glasses, the screaming continued. Not sure what was going on, I headed to the front door to see for myself.

Just outside our door, I saw a young woman trying to escape out the passenger door of her car, with a man inside violently pulling her back in.

Just outside our door, I saw a young woman trying to escape out the passenger door of her car, with a man inside violently pulling her back in, with screams and shouts loud enough to be heard up and down our street. I immediately threw open the door, and sprinted across the lawn to the car. Not knowing what I would find (guns, drugs ...?) I ran with my cell out in front of me, poised with my thumb already on the 9-button, and memorized the license plate instantly. I had no idea what I would or should do, only that something needed to be done by someone to prevent this act of violence.

I approached the car, and saw a man wrestling with a lady who kept saying over and over, "Let me out! Let me out!" Spittle was all over his face and hair, rage in his eyes, and hate dripped from his lips. I was not a welcome presence--for him. But in her eyes my presence meant salvation, and freedom. I made it clear that I was there to help, and was prepared to call 911 if needed to protect the young lady. He focused his venom on me, shouting obscenities and making it clear I needed to get lost.

Then he came at me yelling, arms raised and chest puffed up, "I don't even care anymore ... ," ready to destroy me. Why Lord, had I taken out my contacts, only to get my glasses bashed into my face? I noticed for the first time how huge he was, 6’5, 270 pounds or so, and the thought came through my head that I might not be preaching the next morning if I get beaten by this brut. Not praying exactly, but knowing that violence towards me would too easily be transferred to beating his girlfriend, I tried calmly to talk him down. Nothing works though, when your mind is clouded by rage and fear. Nothing, at least, until I pointed out to him how much God loved his girlfriend, and how much God loved him, and how terrible it is to do violence to one of God’s beloved children.There was nothing strategic about that for me. No training equipped me to say that, or to know how to respond.

But with those words, he almost instantly calmed down, and backed down, and broke down into tears about their situation. He began even to speak rationally about the situation. I told them both I was a pastor at a local church, repeated that I was there to help them, and made it quite clear that no violence would be accepted in front of my house. All the while I wondered to myself what my neighbors were thinking to themselves as the peaked through their blinds at this scene before them.

Over the next 20 minutes or so I spent time hearing their stories, repairing their lost sense of hope, and working towards some solutions to their problems. All the while insisting to them both that violence was not acceptable, that God loved them both, and that there were people who cared deeply enough for them to want to help them. In the shadows of Houston’s flickering street lights, I shared the way of peace and relationship with two young people I came to deeply appreciate.

Before it was all over, while tears of mercy streamed down his shame-filled and now hope-stained cheeks, he set aside his machismo, reached over to pull me in tight hug, and held me for well over a minute.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you ... I love you man," was the new language falling from his lips. Funny, but while he was hugging me, I noticed for the first time that he was about my size, 5’9, 180 lbs or so.

I don't know what became of either of them. Perhaps they repeated the story again the next night on another street not far from where I live. If so her victimization falls at the feet of my pastoral naiveté. Or, perhaps it's true that out of the depths of pain and sorrow, comes new life. And if so, then there is hope for my new friends. And hope for us all. And there is hope too, that next time my neighbors will join me in working nonviolently for hugs on our streets.

Appeared first on Web site of The Mennonite, April 7, 2009. Marty Troyer is pastor of Houston Mennonite Church.

by Marty Troyer

Marty Troyer is pastor at Houston Mennonite Church.

Helping Soldiers Turn to the Way of Peace - Stories

Fri, 1 May 2009 07:00:00 EST

The U.S. military calls it “crystallization.” It’s the moment in the life of a soldier when he realizes that he can no longer serve in the military and remain true to his conscience or faith.

Daniel Hershberger, Tim Huber and a friend.

Daniel Hershberger, a Mennonite Mission Network representative and counselor with the Military Counseling Network in Germany, helps soldiers articulate that moment, as well as answer myriad other questions that come along with applying for conscientious objector status.

“One of the most rewarding experiences here is working with Christian soldiers who have come to be conscientious objectors because their experiences in war and combat have revealed Jesus to them in a new way,” Daniel says.

For some, it happens in basic training, when they are stabbing a dummy with their bayonet and yelling “Kill! Kill! Kill!”

He explained that while not every soldier comes to the counseling network because of Christian faith, he has worked with multiple Christian soldiers who realized during their deployment that military service stood in direct contradiction to their beliefs.

“One guy’s dad was a military chaplain. When he enlisted, this man saw the military as Christian service. There are many guys like that – they thought military service would be a ministry,” explained Daniel.

The connection between service to God and service to country can be so strong that it’s hard for soldiers to separate the two. “Since I follow Jesus, now I can’t serve my country or kill,” one conscientious objector said. “And if I can’t serve my country, is it still possible to be a Christian?”

So when does crystallization happen? For some, it happens in basic training, when they are stabbing a dummy with their bayonet and yelling “Kill! Kill! Kill!” For some, it happens when they see that civilians in the country they thought they were serving aren’t supportive of their presence.

And for others, it can be more intense. One soldier was serving in Iraq when a car pulled up to the checkpoint where he was stationed, Daniel said. An Iraqi child, a 5-or 6-year-old, was walking beside the car holding something in his hand. When the car refused to slow down at the checkpoint, this soldier was commanded to get the child in his sights for fear he might have a hand grenade. The soldier realized, “My order could be to kill this child.”

For many, though, the realization that they must reject the weapons of war isn’t prompted by circumstances as dramatic as viewing a 6-year-old through a rifle scope. The effects of war—seeing life and death happen in front of you—are enough to cause some Christian soldiers to evaluate their choices.

After months of basic training, where the people they’ll be fighting against are referred to only as “towelheads” or “targets”—anything but humans—soldiers come to the point of having to rehumanize the people they’ve been trained to see solely as enemies.

“These soldiers get to Iraq or Afghanistan and realize this man in front of them isn’t just a target,” said Daniel. “This is a dad with kids at home. This is a son whose mother is waiting for him.

“They start asking themselves, ‘what does my conscience say?’ versus ‘what does my commander say?’ and finally, ‘What does Jesus say?’”

After a period of activity in the late 1980s and early 1990s, the Military Counseling Network was reestablished in 2003 as a project of the German Mennonite Peace Committee, with support from Mennonite Central Committee. In 2004 Mission Network became a partner in MCN.

Original news release by Melanie Hess for Mennonite Mission Network.

Give Me All Your Money - Stories

Wed, 1 Apr 2009 07:00:00 EST

By Dave Powell

It was obvious to Dad that they were working together and were cornering him.

Writing about his father, Sam Powell, Jr.

“Give me all of the money in your pocket.” My father halted abruptly in front of the man who had just spoken those words. In the pre-dawn darkness, Dad could see the man pointing something at him through his coat, but could not tell if it was really a pistol or just his finger.

Sam Powell, Jr.

The man must have known that Dad was getting paid in cash for his deliveries that morning, and decided to stop him on his return to the truck. Dad stood there thinking for a few short seconds, then calmly looked into the man’s eyes and said, “You know what, Sir? If you take all of my money now, my troubles will be over but yours will just be starting.”

The man took his turn thinking for a longer few seconds, and then swiftly slipped away into the night without another word. Did he take Dad’s words as a threat or the intended philosophical advice, or was he just disarmed by such an unexpected response? We’ll never know.

Later in his life, Dad brought home a story of another early-morning caper. He had stopped at a rest stop along Interstate 64 in Virginia before dawn. Going into the men’s room, he appeared to be the only one there. But as he went to the sink to wash his hands, one of the stall doors opened and out stepped a large ominous-looking man.

At the same moment, the restroom door opened with another man standing in the doorway and looking straight at Dad. It was obvious to Dad that they were working together and were cornering him, but my Dad didn’t miss a beat. As he was washing and drying his hands, he immediately began talking and joking unceasingly about the traffic, the weather, and whatever else, in his jolly matter-of-fact way. He was still talking as he slipped past the man at the door. He apparently took a quick peek back, as he mentioned seeing both men just shrugging at each other as if to say, “What do you do with a man like that?”

I don’t know if I’ll ever be as innovative at a moment’s notice as my father, but I cherish his stories. His practical examples taught me that real men don’t have to fight or take flight, but that there are so many creative options for responding in these circumstances. As people of peace, let us be living examples and share our stories with our families.

Originally appeared in the December 2008 Virginia Mennonite Conference Connections. Used by permission.

Pacifism in Action - Stories

Tue, 3 Mar 2009 07:00:00 EST

By Deborah Froese

Neill von Gunten

For Neill von Gunten, pacifism is not passive. Von Gunten, who grew up in Berne, Indiana first took a stand for peace when he was 18 years of age and chose to enter the conscientious objector's program instead of fighting in the Vietnam war. He was harassed for his choice and called names.

In a sense, he was following in his father’s footsteps. His father was classified militarily as a 1AO; someone who refused to carry a weapon. “That stuck in my mind because he took a stand and he was harassed, just like I was harassed.”

I often wondered what my own response would be if I were attacked personally.

Two years later, von Gunten and his wife Edith – currently co-directors of Mennonite Church Canada’s Native Ministry – moved to a Chicago ghetto to participate in the Mennonite Voluntary Service program. It was there, serving together at Woodlawn Mennonite Church, that the von Guntens became involved with the Martin Luther King civil rights movement.

Von Gunten, who participated in several peaceful protests with King, speaks highly of the man’s commitment to pacifism. “When he was hit in the head with a rock, he would say ‘we need to love our brothers and sisters because they don’t know what they’re doing’… I often wondered what my own response would be if I were attacked personally.”

He found out during an anti-war demonstration in downtown Chicago.

“I was walking with another fellow carrying a sign that said ‘Peace is the Answer.’ These men jumped us. Neither one of us fought back. I had my glasses smashed. I got punched and then the police rushed in and grabbed the men. But I refused to fight back. That was my response.”

He recalls wondering why the young attackers were so angry with him and toward the cause of peace. “I wondered what kind of background they had and how they were misled.”

During his time in Chicago, Neill saw cars thrown upside down and set on fire. He was the target of rocks and cherry bombs. He remembers riding on a city bus with his black friends as rocks crashed through windows. The bus careened through a red light in a white neighbourhood to avoid a large group of young men threatening to surround and sway the bus until it tipped.

The von Guntens observe that many in the church today, and particularly young adults, have not had the same opportunities to engage in conscientious objection in the way that he did. He worries that the younger generation of Mennonites know the talk, but wonders how many would be able to sustain their words with action if push came to shove.

“I’ve felt the fear and I’ve seen the anger and the hatred that people have in their hearts toward other cultures. And that hurts,” Neill said.

Von Gunten’s commitment to peace and to people seems to be a part of his family heritage. He remembers his grandparents feeding the men who would hang out on the railroad tracks. His grandfather also helped where he could. “It didn’t matter about race or status in society. In that sense, they were good models for me, influencing how I began to look at others.

Von Gunten says that leading by experience is one of the better ways to teach non-violent responses. The other way is to tell stories and talk about it. “What would Jesus do? Would you expect him to go in with guns a-blazing? He was hung on the cross to die and he didn’t fight back. He responded peacefully.”

Even when Jesus was angry, von Gunten points out, he was not violent. “He overturned tables in the temple when he was angry with those who were selling goods there, but he did not harm anyone.

“I have never seen violence resolve a conflict. It only escalates conflict.”

Neill and Edith von Gunten have been active in Aboriginal communities in Manitoba for more than 40 years. From Mennonite Church Canada News Release

Going Green: The Colour of Peace - Stories

Mon, 2 Feb 2009 07:00:00 EST

By Deborah Froese

Dan Kehler, associate pastor of Altona Bergthaler Mennonite Church, Man., biked 125 kilometres to Winnipeg in the pouring rain to attend Mennonite Church Canada’s 2008 assembly and binational summit. If you aren’t quite ready to “go green” to decrease your environmental footprint, would you consider going green for peace?

That’s what Dan Kehler is doing. The associate pastor of Bergthaler Mennonite Church in Altona says that society’s addiction to oil has made it a commodity that drives war: “I figure the less carbon I use, the less I participate in the economy of oil and the less I participate in the war that is currently going on in Iraq.”

"The less carbon I use, the less I participate in the economy of oil and the less I participate in the war that is currently going on in Iraq."

Kehler credits a recent Mennonite Church Canada learning tour to Colombia with raising his awareness about oil dependency. After returning from the trip, both he and his wife struggled to come to terms with the contrast between their comfortable Canadian lifestyle and the poverty and injustice they observed in Colombia, where people are routinely forced from their land—or even murdered—so that others can reap profits from natural resources such as oil.

“[Oil] further divides the poor and the rich, the hungry and the not hungry,” he says. “It changes the entire landscape of humanity from one where we are called to live in harmony and close communion with the land, to one where I don’t have to think twice about eating a banana from South America because oil is cheap enough to bring it here.” That banana, he points out, was commercially grown in an area where the land should really be used to grow food for the local community.

Kehler began to leave his car at home as much as possible, even biking in the winter and using a bike trailer to buy groceries. The Kehlers still use their vehicle for family vacations or for visiting outside of town, but in an average week they spend less than $20 on fuel. Some weeks, the car never leaves the driveway.

In July, Kehler made a three-hour-and-40-minute bike ride to Winnipeg from Altona for Mennonite Church Canada’s annual assembly. It was pouring rain at the time.

Breaking free of the “oil addiction” can be daunting, he says. In a rural congregation such as the one Kehler pastors, farmers depend on the oil industry to fuel their equipment and to provide petroleum-based chemicals for their fields. “To ‘go green’ when you’re talking about someone’s livelihood is a lot harder than just leaving the car at home,” he admits.

Sometimes theological understanding can get in the way. “If this world is going to be destroyed and replaced with a new world, why would we worry about it?” he says. “But if we see greening as an act of peacekeeping, that is something we can get a hold of. Our call to peace is rooted in Anabaptism.”

In an e-mail exchange he wrote, “The whole gas-in-the-car talk . . . has caused us to look more closely at how we use energy in general.” Instead of turning on the air conditioner for the entire summer, the Kehlers choose to use it only on the hottest days, fewer than 10 in total. They draw blinds to keep summer heat out and use a window-box fan and the evening breeze to cool the house.

By late October the Kehlers had not yet turned on their heat. Instead, they drew from the bounty of their garden, baking and cooking more frequently and using stove heat to warm the house. “It has turned into a bit of a challenge now to see how long we can go without turning on the furnace,” Kehler wrote.

They are looking at reducing their consumption in general. “As a family we have started the journey of understanding the depths of our consumerism. I suspect that it will have its setbacks and its successes, but it is one that our faith calls us to walk,” Kehler wrote.

He is quick to admit that changes made by one person or family won’t make much difference from a global perspective. “The difference for me personally is that I believe I will be held accountable for what I choose to do, so to choose to come [to the assembly] on the bike says that I’ve made a choice not to participate in the economy of oil.”

Mennonite Church Canada Release