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2007-08-21 issue:

On being a convert

Mennonites view me with reserved optimism.

by Debra Sapp-Yarwood

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“Yarwood? That’s not a Mennonite name. Is Sapp Mennonite?”

I tell the inquirer, “No, neither is Mennonite. I’m a convert, actually.”

“Ooooh.” The voice is pleasant but tinged with skepticism.

In normal churches, and by that I mean non-Mennonite, the natives welcome converts exuberantly and often congratulate them on seeing the light. Then they show them to the coffee pot, ask them if they’d like to join a committee and invite them to bring a hot dish to share after next Sunday’s worship. Accepting converts is a natural part of their culture, and they do not question the convert’s motives or resolve.

In Mennonite churches, the natives are often quiet and reserved. They’re hospitable but not effusive. To newcomers, they display the kind of constraint that a family might show when a young man brings home his fianceé for the first time, and the family fears they may scare the young woman off. The subtext is: “We probably want you; we’re not sure. But if you knew us the way we know us, you’d think twice about joining us for better or for worse.”

I don’t think this approach serves the church or God, but I think it is the logical consequence of Mennonites’ culture of humility combined with a complicated, often painful history.

It would be unseemly proud in a Mennonite church to congratulate someone on “seeing the light.” Moreover, seeing the light of this church is not a happy call to live on Easy Street before being fitted for your eternal crown and issued your jewels. It isn’t easy to live Christ’s call to peace and social justice, even for (maybe especially for) those who live on the electrical grid, surf the Internet and otherwise participate “in the world.”

The skepticism and reserve is also rooted in history. These days, with the country engaged in an unpopular war, the “light” of peace this church offers may look like the Aurora Borealis, but native Mennonites wonder whether a newcomer will have the backbone to endure a popular war as a Mennonite. The Kaufmans, Kliewers, Yoders and Zehrs are girded by family stories of withstanding persecution during times of conflict. They may look at me and wonder, If Iran launches a nuclear warhead at the United States, will this neophyte take her place as an Anabaptist social pariah?

I recognize that I cannot appreciate war resistance in my bones and blood like a Goertz or a Goering. My father was in the Army Air Corps during World War II. He sired daughters only, so our family got to take a pass on the war of my era, Vietnam. In addition to lacking a family history of war resistance, I am now too old to matter much to the powers that be. The women’s movement notwithstanding, no one will ever ask this 46-year-old with arthritis in her knees to wield an AK-47 for her country’s honor.

While I may not yet appreciate the difficulty of war resistance, my only child is an 8-year-old boy, and our time may come. I want him to understand that we fail God when, as a people, we use war and other forms of violence to communicate and solve problems. As I see national leaders claim to be Christian and pro-war, pro-torture, pro-violence on many fronts, I want my son to get another message from his religious leaders. I want him to hear Christ’s peace message without apology. I want him to know there is another way. I want him to “see the light” before he is asked to wield an AK-47 or whatever the next generation of horrible weapons may be.

I am a convert and as such I am viewed with reserved optimism. Am I a fair-weather Mennonite, or have I embraced the faith for better and for worse? I suppose we’ll only know in time. In the meantime, I could use a cup of coffee and I make a passable hot dish called “forget-me-not beans and rice.” As for committees, I’ll go hide with my friend named Voth, who also avoids serving on them.

Debra Sapp-Yarwood is a member of Rainbow Mennonite Church, Kansas City, Kan.

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