There’s not a whole lot to do in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, so my parents didn’t have much trouble convincing us that visiting a “Mennonite Village” would be nearly as fun as going to Disney and at least twice as exotic. I was about ten years old at the time, on a family vacation to the town where my mother grew up and my grandmother still lived, and I can remember driving through the farm-blanketed foothills of Appalachia on the way to the village.
I’m sure my brother, sister, and I were starting to get bored as we drove past the simple houses, standard barns, and unremarkable fields of the Mennonite community. Then we saw it—a massive and glistening mound of knotted purple tubes and indistinguishable red masses—beneath a gallows-like structure.
“What is that?” we all cried, as my dad slowed the car.
“Lord have mercy.” My grandmother threw out her signature phrase. “They’s innards.”
That’s when my dad pulled onto the shoulder of the road, and we all ran up the hill. Horrified and fascinated, we poke the organs of that recently-deceased cow with sticks.
Other highlights of the trip included browsing the general store, while barefoot women in long skirts and bonnets stared disapprovingly at my blue jeans; getting bitten by a horse; and eating a hamburger—probably made from the same poor cow whose vitals we had desecrated—at the local restaurant.
Until May, that was my only exposure to Mennonites, so you can imagine what I imagined when Brandn’s professor invited us to attend University Mennonite Church upon our arrival in State College. I didn’t know what to expect, and I definitely didn’t know what to wear. That first Sunday, I noted the absence of buggies outside of the church (a good sign) and was relieved to find that the Mennonites within looked relatively normal (fortunately, I’d left my bonnet at home).
That said, our reception was anything but typical. Rather than acknowledging us with the customary polite nod, the people in the surrounding pews turned and asked about our lives, jobs, and interests. The service included an exquisite poem, read by its author during the offertory; a time of sharing joys and concerns in which the congregation enthusiastically participated; and beautiful hymns, all of which Brandn sang (he refuses to sing hymns that contravene his theology). At the conclusion of the service, we were swarmed by at least half of the congregation, several of whom invited us home for lunch. We then followed everyone to the basement, where everyone was drinking coffee out of mugs (not styrofoam cups!) and one woman had set up a mini market with vegetables from her farm.
I cannot tell you how refreshing it was to attend a church service like this. In the past, Brandn and I have shared the same struggle that many of our friends have faced. We desire to be in a church community that includes people our age, but we’ve found our generation increasingly divided between those who profess no faith at all and those who have embraced a black-and-white, fundamentalist theology that we just don’t buy into. And there’s the problem of “meat markets”—Sunday schools for twenty-somethings where you’re more likely to be sized up as a potential mate than challenged to live out your faith or work through your doubts or examine the scriptures. It’s often S.O.L. for those of us looking for a community where we can reconcile our faith with our intellects, where taking a “historical-critical” view of the scriptures isn’t a heresy, and where theology and beer are compliments, not mutually exclusive.
Brandn and I feel very blessed to have found University Mennonite Church, which has a thriving college and grad student group. We feel genuinely welcome there and that the same hospitality is extended to everyone who comes in its doors. We agree with its commitment to service and social justice. We believe it is a place where we’ll have freedom to develop our theology and discuss our doubts. And most importantly, we think its pastor and members are truly devoted following Jesus and living out the implications of that commitment.
My understanding of Mennonites has obviously expanded in the past few months, and I’d like to share a bit of what I’ve learned for those of you who are curious about the denomination…
- The Mennonite Church sprang out of the Anabaptist movement, which rejected infant baptism and called for the separation of church and state during the protestant reformation. It was named after Meno Simon, a catholic priest who, after his brother was martyred, adopted the beliefs non-violent Anabaptists and helped to consolidate the movement.
- It is one of the historic peace churches, and it continues to embrace nonviolence, reconciliation, and pacifism.
- There are many different stripes of Mennonites, ranging from conservative congregations who live much like the Amish to more progressive congregations, like ours.
- Personal piety (living out one’s faith) is extremely important to Mennonites. This often means responding to Jesus’ call to serve the poor, widows, and orphans very literally. Most of the people in my church have spent a year to seventeen years serving the world’s poor through practical efforts such as disaster relief or agricultural development, often in Asia or Africa. Nearly everyone is involved in some kind of community service in State College.
- There are ethnic Mennonites, whose ancestors fled to America because of persecution, and there are people like us, who are from a different religious background. Mennonites have a very distinct culture—which includes amazing food. I have enjoyed delicious lentils (yes, they can be delicious!), honey-baked in the Mennonite style. One of the Mennonite cookbooks I flipped through had instructions for feeding everyone at a barn raising, which included a recipe for 200 lemon pies. I’ve also noticed that, at our church at least, Mennonites have a passion for four-part singing. On our church retreat this past weekend, we brought hymnals on the nighttime horse-drawn wagon ride. Bouncing to and fro with flashlights in hand, we sent glorious four-part harmonies into the forest, surely terrifying the owls above us.
Our church retreat concluded this Sunday with a beautiful service. Pastor Dave preached on overcoming our desires to isolate, to exclude, and to see our enemies fail. He encouraged us to reach out and include others, even our enemies. He transformed the image in Psalm 23—“He prepareth a table before me in the presence of my enemies”—into a poignant image, a table where Jesus enables us to sit with our enemies. During the sharing of joys and sorrows, a man with a cleft palate pointed to the severely autistic child on his lap (the son of another church member) and praised God for his enthusiasm during worship. When the time came for communion, a bowl of grapes was set out for the children and for those unready to partake in the sacrament. No one returned from the communion table empty handed.
Feel free to post your church-seeking experiences as a response. I’d love to hear them.
I’m sure my brother, sister, and I were starting to get bored as we drove past the simple houses, standard barns, and unremarkable fields of the Mennonite community. Then we saw it—a massive and glistening mound of knotted purple tubes and indistinguishable red masses—beneath a gallows-like structure.
“What is that?” we all cried, as my dad slowed the car.
“Lord have mercy.” My grandmother threw out her signature phrase. “They’s innards.”
That’s when my dad pulled onto the shoulder of the road, and we all ran up the hill. Horrified and fascinated, we poke the organs of that recently-deceased cow with sticks.
Other highlights of the trip included browsing the general store, while barefoot women in long skirts and bonnets stared disapprovingly at my blue jeans; getting bitten by a horse; and eating a hamburger—probably made from the same poor cow whose vitals we had desecrated—at the local restaurant.
Until May, that was my only exposure to Mennonites, so you can imagine what I imagined when Brandn’s professor invited us to attend University Mennonite Church upon our arrival in State College. I didn’t know what to expect, and I definitely didn’t know what to wear. That first Sunday, I noted the absence of buggies outside of the church (a good sign) and was relieved to find that the Mennonites within looked relatively normal (fortunately, I’d left my bonnet at home).
That said, our reception was anything but typical. Rather than acknowledging us with the customary polite nod, the people in the surrounding pews turned and asked about our lives, jobs, and interests. The service included an exquisite poem, read by its author during the offertory; a time of sharing joys and concerns in which the congregation enthusiastically participated; and beautiful hymns, all of which Brandn sang (he refuses to sing hymns that contravene his theology). At the conclusion of the service, we were swarmed by at least half of the congregation, several of whom invited us home for lunch. We then followed everyone to the basement, where everyone was drinking coffee out of mugs (not styrofoam cups!) and one woman had set up a mini market with vegetables from her farm.
I cannot tell you how refreshing it was to attend a church service like this. In the past, Brandn and I have shared the same struggle that many of our friends have faced. We desire to be in a church community that includes people our age, but we’ve found our generation increasingly divided between those who profess no faith at all and those who have embraced a black-and-white, fundamentalist theology that we just don’t buy into. And there’s the problem of “meat markets”—Sunday schools for twenty-somethings where you’re more likely to be sized up as a potential mate than challenged to live out your faith or work through your doubts or examine the scriptures. It’s often S.O.L. for those of us looking for a community where we can reconcile our faith with our intellects, where taking a “historical-critical” view of the scriptures isn’t a heresy, and where theology and beer are compliments, not mutually exclusive.
Brandn and I feel very blessed to have found University Mennonite Church, which has a thriving college and grad student group. We feel genuinely welcome there and that the same hospitality is extended to everyone who comes in its doors. We agree with its commitment to service and social justice. We believe it is a place where we’ll have freedom to develop our theology and discuss our doubts. And most importantly, we think its pastor and members are truly devoted following Jesus and living out the implications of that commitment.
My understanding of Mennonites has obviously expanded in the past few months, and I’d like to share a bit of what I’ve learned for those of you who are curious about the denomination…
- The Mennonite Church sprang out of the Anabaptist movement, which rejected infant baptism and called for the separation of church and state during the protestant reformation. It was named after Meno Simon, a catholic priest who, after his brother was martyred, adopted the beliefs non-violent Anabaptists and helped to consolidate the movement.
- It is one of the historic peace churches, and it continues to embrace nonviolence, reconciliation, and pacifism.
- There are many different stripes of Mennonites, ranging from conservative congregations who live much like the Amish to more progressive congregations, like ours.
- Personal piety (living out one’s faith) is extremely important to Mennonites. This often means responding to Jesus’ call to serve the poor, widows, and orphans very literally. Most of the people in my church have spent a year to seventeen years serving the world’s poor through practical efforts such as disaster relief or agricultural development, often in Asia or Africa. Nearly everyone is involved in some kind of community service in State College.
- There are ethnic Mennonites, whose ancestors fled to America because of persecution, and there are people like us, who are from a different religious background. Mennonites have a very distinct culture—which includes amazing food. I have enjoyed delicious lentils (yes, they can be delicious!), honey-baked in the Mennonite style. One of the Mennonite cookbooks I flipped through had instructions for feeding everyone at a barn raising, which included a recipe for 200 lemon pies. I’ve also noticed that, at our church at least, Mennonites have a passion for four-part singing. On our church retreat this past weekend, we brought hymnals on the nighttime horse-drawn wagon ride. Bouncing to and fro with flashlights in hand, we sent glorious four-part harmonies into the forest, surely terrifying the owls above us.
Our church retreat concluded this Sunday with a beautiful service. Pastor Dave preached on overcoming our desires to isolate, to exclude, and to see our enemies fail. He encouraged us to reach out and include others, even our enemies. He transformed the image in Psalm 23—“He prepareth a table before me in the presence of my enemies”—into a poignant image, a table where Jesus enables us to sit with our enemies. During the sharing of joys and sorrows, a man with a cleft palate pointed to the severely autistic child on his lap (the son of another church member) and praised God for his enthusiasm during worship. When the time came for communion, a bowl of grapes was set out for the children and for those unready to partake in the sacrament. No one returned from the communion table empty handed.
Feel free to post your church-seeking experiences as a response. I’d love to hear them.
