by Eric Massanari
“We are all standing in a river of Christ,
and we are being carried along by currents we cannot comprehend.”
Those struck me as very wise and timely words when I heard them spoken a few weeks ago by a former Mennonite, and now Catholic, Ivan Kauffman. Ivan was speaking to a group of sixty of us (roughly half Mennonites and half Catholics) who had gathered for discussions on peacemaking and spirituality at St. John’s Abbey in Collegeville, Minnesota. We are all standing in a river of Christ, and we are being carried along by currents we cannot comprehend.
They were appropriate words to begin our time together because we soon realized that although many different life experiences (or, “currents”) had brought us to that place, we could find a common place on which to stand because of our common faith in Christ.
Ivan’s words would have been appropriate many centuries earlier to describe another gathering that took place in the presence of Christ. The thousands (probably at least 10,000, if there were “5,000 men” as the text states) who gathered around Jesus that day would have been unfamiliar with distinctions like “Catholic” and “Mennonite,” but they would have known very well distinctions such as “Jew” and “Gentile,” “rich” and “poor,” “powerful” and “powerless.” Such barriers were likely getting blurred a bit within the large crowd.
As far as we know from the six different versions of this story found in the four gospels of the New Testament, Jesus never attempted to sort folks out in that crowd, determining some as more worthy of his teachings and gifts of food than others. They were all welcomed together, and they all received together from the abundance that was present there.
The story, as it is found here in Matthew’s Gospel, is one that speaks of Jesus responding to a very real human need – the need for food. But, it is also a story that the gospel writer uses to point us to the bigger picture of the gospel, reminding us that in Christ there is enough to go around . . .
There is enough bread and fish to satisfy the hunger of multitudes,
there is enough compassion to overcome people’s animosities
there is enough mercy to welcome those who perceive their own sin,
there is enough strength and power to bring peace to the world,
there is enough love to transform human hearts and minds.
Given the context of this ancient story of Jesus feeding the multitude, perhaps Ivan Kauffman’s statement could be modified a bit, to something like: We are all part of a multitude, receiving of the abundance that is Christ, and not only is there enough to go around, there is plenty for us to share with one another.
To a significant degree, this abundance we are given and asked to share comes out of our past . . .
Throughout our history, we Christians have often behaved as if Christ were some sort of limited commodity that had to be carefully controlled and apportioned by proper ministrations and authorities. It didn’t take long after Jesus’ death for those who gathered in his name to begin fracturing in his name and branding those who were different as “heretics,” or, to use a term that was quite popular for some time, anathema (or, “cursed”) in relation to the body of Christ.
Three weeks ago, as our group of Mennonites and Catholics shared with one another, we could not help but be reminded of this fractured history within the body of Christ.
Yet, at the same time we were reminded that somehow, out of this brokenness, some important aspects of Christ’s gospel have been allowed to flourish in our different traditions, and that there is much to be learned from our differences.
Among the Catholic participants, it was acknowledged that there was much to learn from the Mennonite understanding of “discipleship” and the way we not only take peacemaking seriously but understand it as a confessional part of our faith. Mennonites at the meeting shared that it has been challenging for us to leap over the hurdle of the 16th century, and recognize that the first fifteen hundred years of the Christian faith are part of the history of our own faith. It has taken time for contemporary Mennonites to understand that too much may have been cast aside following the Reformation years in an effort to avoid all things “popish” and “monkish” (derogatory terms sometimes used by Anabaptists). A number of us related that we have found our own faith enriched by Catholic traditions of contemplative prayer and spiritual formation, and that such practices have helped us reflect intentionally on the role of prayer in peacemaking.
The conversations in Collegeville reminded me that as Christians try to build bridges with one another it is important for us to look to the past and find there the truth that we are all part of a multitude, receiving of the abundance that is Christ, and not only is there enough to go around, there is plenty for us to share.
I was also reminded in those conversations that signs of this abundance are to be found as we look at the body of Christ in the present . . .
At present the Catholic Church remains the largest, and the Mennonite Church one of the smallest, of Christian denominations in our world. And though our bridge-building is meaningful and significant, it is also important for us to understand that our two denominations are part of a steadily changing faith tradition in which denominational ties may hold less and less significance.
A recent Christian Century article reports, perhaps not surprisingly, that the fastest growing portion of the church right now is in the southern hemisphere of the globe, and much of this growth is taking shape within new and independent churches. The worship style of these burgeoning churches can, in most cases, be characterized as charismatic and Pentecostal.
Given such changes, it is likely that at some future point our Western model of structuring the church will be something of an oddity and a minority within the broader scope of the worldwide body of Christ.
Are we prepared for such changes? Are we willing and able to work at building bridges with these emerging forms of Christianity? Before we answer “yes” too quickly, we Western Christians (particularly we white Western Christians) have to face-up to some well-ingrained racism and cultural stereotypes. Christians in Europe and North America, including Mennonites, have often dismissed emerging Asian and African theologies as too “syncretistic” for the particular ways they have acculturated the Christian faith.
Lamin Sanneh, a missiologist and church historian who teaches at Yale Divinity School, makes the important observation that “syncretism is the term we use for the religion of those we do not like. No one calls himself or herself a syncretist!”
But of course we are, ourselves, syncretists. Our own Christian faith is heavily acculturated within our North American culture. And we will begin to see this and understand this more as we work harder at building bridges and sharing hospitality with others in this world who are following Christ in ways that look very different from our own.
As we look around us at the body of Christ in the present, we see that we are all part of a multitude, receiving of the abundance that is Christ, and not only is there enough to go around, there is plenty for us to share with one another.
Connecting with, sharing with, and receiving from our brothers and sisters in Christ in our modern world is not simply a good idea – it is an imperative as we move together out of a storied past, through our very diverse present, and into an uncertain future. Ecumenical dialog, witness, and action are not optional, they are necessary.
It is difficult for me to find a better example for why bridge-building within the body of Christ is so necessary than the following story that Laverne Rutschman, a member of our congregation, passed along to me this week. I’ll close by sharing it briefly with you.
Not long ago, on July 20th, a group of about 80 women and men gathered near the Plaza de Bolivar in Bogota, on the occasion of Colombian Independence Day.
Many of these were Christians of various stripes and flavors who have been united through the work of two ecumenical peace groups in Colombia, Justapaz and the Conscientious Objection Collective. They were gathered there near the seat of power of the Colombian national government to remind their country’s leaders of the need for peace in a land that is being torn apart by rampant violence.
The participants held candles, sang songs and read litanies of peace. Also read aloud were messages of solidarity sent by North American churches, including this one sent by Boston Mennonite Fellowship:
On this Colombian Independence Day, we stand with you in spirit as you remind each other and all who will listen, that peace comes through peacemaking, not warmaking. We long with you for the day when you, we, and all people everywhere will live together in peace instead of war, with joyful anticipation instead of fear, with bellies satisfied instead of hungry or overstuffed, and nurturing instead of plundering the earth. May you be richly blessed for your creative and courageous efforts toward this peace.
Janna Bowman, a North American Mennonite who was present at the gathering, recounts that as those words were read tension began to mount in the square as more security forces arrived along with riot tanks equipped with water cannons. Peter Stuckey, pastor and President of the Colombian Mennonite Church, got up on the podium and began to speak. As he did so a number of riot police marched up to him and created a barrier between him and the rest of the crowd. Peter asked the police to refrain from using violence on the peaceful demonstrators, and then he continued with his speech, asking the new Colombian administration and congress to govern in obedience to Jesus’ teachings of reconciliation, nonviolence, and love. In her email, Janna Bowman, recalls how quiet it was as he spoke and how, when he was finished they closed the gathering by singing the Prayer of St. Francis.
Then, at the very end, came a very unexpected moment. Leticia, Peter Stuckey’s wife, walked up to the nearest riot policeman who, like the others, stood armed and poised to strike out, and she rested her hand on him. To the surprise of those watching, he returned her gesture, and then he whispered to her, “May God bless you.”
Such a moment is a profound reminder that we all continue to be a part of a multitude, receiving of the abundance that is Christ, and not only is there enough to go around, there is plenty for us to share with one another.
May we do this with the help of God, the love of Christ, and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, AMEN.