Fragments, Fallout, and Freedom--Part 4
My Father
A number of years before anyone outside of Harvard Law School had heard of Barack Obama, he wrote the book Dreams From My Father. Although I could hardly be more different from the former president, and my father could hardly be more different from his, this post could bear the title of the book written by Barack about his father. I also have dreams from my father.
Barack saw his father only once, at the age of ten, after his parents divorced when he was a toddler. When he was 21, the senior Obama was killed in a car crash. After this, Barack visited Africa for the first time, and was forced to come to terms with the fact that his father was a heavy drinker and behaved arrogantly.
By contrast, my father was very present in my life for 64 years. We lived near each other for all that time except for five years when I was in my twenties and taught school in Ohio. Since he died suddenly about three years ago, not only I, but a host of others have had opportunity to evaluate his legacy. Drinking and arrogance are not in evidence in this legacy. Instead the record shows integrity and faithful Christian living and service to others. In the matter of how he engaged with government and politics, I wish for a collective return to what he taught, both by his life, and by his words. Providing some context for his legacy seems appropriate.
My father had a bigger platform than many do, perhaps bigger than any of his Beachy (Amish Mennonite) contemporaries. I say this remembering that he was on the founding boards of a mission organization, a publication effort, and a Bible school--the three major united efforts of the Beachy congregations. He was one of the charter members of Center Church, and served from the beginning as a minister, having been first ordained in the Old Order Amish church. He was also a writer (associate editor and columnist for Calvary Messenger) and teacher (at Calvary Bible School), serving for many years in some of those organizations he helped establish. He was ordained when he was 27, and he preached into his eighties.
In the wider Mennonite world, he served with other Mennonites in founding Offender-Victim Ministries, a Kansas prison ministry. This group chose him for their "Peacemaker of the Year" award. He worked with Interfaith Housing in Hutchinson, eventually launching a collaborative effort between them and the work of another board which he helped found: CASP (Conservative Anabaptist Service Program).
In the mid-1960s, when a court case was filed locally against an Amish man who refused to send his daughter to high school after the law changed to require attendance till age 16, Dad was the local person who made a trip to Topeka to read a statement to the governor on behalf of those who wished to appeal for an exemption. He did it in company with a group of Holdeman Mennonites from Hesston and surrounding areas. On the way to Topeka, they looked at two statements that had been prepared in advance--one written by Dad and the other by someone else in the group. They voted to have Dad read his own statement to represent the position of the group.
Dad was the Beachy representative to Mennonite Central Committee and served the constituency as representative to the National Service Board for Religious Objectors in Washington, D. C.
Although never a historian in any official sense, Dad was locally the unofficial consultant for anyone who wanted to learn about Mennonite and Amish people's history, being well-informed about both their European roots and the relationships between groups in the US. Steven Nolt came here from Indiana to interview him while he was writing books on Mennonite and Amish history. On a side note, I remember Dad bringing him to the school where I was teaching to show him the building and to introduce him to me. I didn't know who he was at the time, except that he was studying the history of this community.
Dad was drafted after WWII had ended, but before the draft had wound down. He served in Civilian Public Service in Iowa, Colorado, and Mississippi doing jobs ranging from soil conservation to cooking to sanitation projects aimed at eradicating hookworm in the deep South. This work happened alongside conscientious objectors of all stripes, many of them from other Mennonite groups. Some of these people became lifelong friends. One of them became our family physician.
After finishing his obligation to the government, Dad enrolled at Eastern Mennonite College in Virginia (now Eastern Mennonite University). This exposed him to many of the foremost Mennonite leaders of that time. His roommate, Myron Augsburger, later became a prominent leader in Mennonite circles. I remember him visiting in our home and preaching in our church when I was growing up.
For his time, Dad's exposure ran wide and deep. Combined with his commitment to the Lord and his thoughtful, reflective habits, I believe he acquired the necessary humility and confidence to speak and act effectively.
What does this record of my dad's life have to do with government and politics? Hardly anything, as it turns out, and almost everything. It had almost nothing to do with government and politics in that none of the accomplishments in his life came about through political activism. He never voted in any election, to my knowledge, although he may have done so rarely in local elections where he personally knew the candidates. He never identified with any political party or defended any particular candidate. He certainly never campaigned for anyone.
Yet, through communicating with government officials and at times magnifying his efforts through circulating petitions or urging others to make contacts, Dad did influence law making and law enforcement (I just remembered his work in support of making "net metering" an option for people connected to an electric grid who wanted to generate some of their own electricity.) The key difference between what my dad did and what people do who promote or participate in political activism is that Dad's efforts were always centered on appeal and influence toward those already in power--never on wielding the power of his vote or encouraging that others do so. In that way he adhered to the centuries-long Anabaptist tradition of staying clear of political entanglements.
The "almost everything' side of Dad's life in relation to politics and government can be traced to his passion, gifting, and platform for prophetic ministry. He called it "being a witness." When others attempted to summarize Christians' responsibility to government by using a set of rhyming words (pray, pay, and obey), I remember Dad saying publicly that he thought that wasn't quite complete, and that "being a witness" is also part of a Christian's responsibility toward government. He was highly motivated to speak truth to all--perhaps to a fault, whether in everyday life, in the pulpit or in his role as a citizen. Speaking truth to those with political or governmental power happened less frequently than speaking truth to the congregation, but both fit seamlessly into Dad's understanding of his Christian duty. When he spoke truth to the congregation, he helped us all make sense of the world we lived in--even the political parts of that world. His many contacts and his depth of experience in the world beyond the local congregation gave him credibility as a translator of the wider world to the Amish world.
I never heard Dad connect himself to the earliest Anabaptist leaders in this way, but speaking truth to power* as Dad practiced it was a hallmark of their approach. "Disputations" were a thing, with Anabaptists on one side and the religious/civic leaders on the other side. Even when city councils ruled entire city-states, and when these councils switched with alarming frequency between having first a Catholic and then a Protestant majority, each one enthusiastically lopping off the heads of people on the other side, and both of them doing that to the Anabaptists, none of these earliest Anabaptists sought political office in an effort to change things. A central tenet of their "rebellion" against the status quo was love for all, along with a determination to suffer willingly rather than to use force to gain an advantage.
Probably because of horrendous persecution, those Anabaptists who survived this active earlier period eventually put their heads down and concentrated on unobtrusive evangelism, kindness, and diligent service to fellow Anabaptists. They became known as "the quiet in the land." This is the quiet Anabaptist (Amish) world Dad was born into. Indeed, Dad used gentle, respectful words in speaking to or about those in authority, and in that way stayed true to the "quiet in the land" identity as well as the "speaking truth to power" Anabaptist identity.
As the record shows, Dad's decision not to vote or seek public office or government service did not diminish his influence or effectiveness, despite some people believing that he should have done these things. Without developing this further, I feel confident in saying that a case could be made for asserting that voting or holding office would have compromised rather than aided his influence and effectiveness.
Almost everyone reading this has a smaller platform than my dad did--as is true of me also. In the next post, I hope to explore what it means to follow his legacy in spite of that. A collective return to what he taught, both by his life and by his words could start anywhere. Wherever it happens, I hope to be aboard when that train leaves the station.
**************
*"speaking truth to power" may not be as widely understood as I thought. Here's a link that explains it.
A number of years before anyone outside of Harvard Law School had heard of Barack Obama, he wrote the book Dreams From My Father. Although I could hardly be more different from the former president, and my father could hardly be more different from his, this post could bear the title of the book written by Barack about his father. I also have dreams from my father.
Barack saw his father only once, at the age of ten, after his parents divorced when he was a toddler. When he was 21, the senior Obama was killed in a car crash. After this, Barack visited Africa for the first time, and was forced to come to terms with the fact that his father was a heavy drinker and behaved arrogantly.
By contrast, my father was very present in my life for 64 years. We lived near each other for all that time except for five years when I was in my twenties and taught school in Ohio. Since he died suddenly about three years ago, not only I, but a host of others have had opportunity to evaluate his legacy. Drinking and arrogance are not in evidence in this legacy. Instead the record shows integrity and faithful Christian living and service to others. In the matter of how he engaged with government and politics, I wish for a collective return to what he taught, both by his life, and by his words. Providing some context for his legacy seems appropriate.
My father had a bigger platform than many do, perhaps bigger than any of his Beachy (Amish Mennonite) contemporaries. I say this remembering that he was on the founding boards of a mission organization, a publication effort, and a Bible school--the three major united efforts of the Beachy congregations. He was one of the charter members of Center Church, and served from the beginning as a minister, having been first ordained in the Old Order Amish church. He was also a writer (associate editor and columnist for Calvary Messenger) and teacher (at Calvary Bible School), serving for many years in some of those organizations he helped establish. He was ordained when he was 27, and he preached into his eighties.
In the wider Mennonite world, he served with other Mennonites in founding Offender-Victim Ministries, a Kansas prison ministry. This group chose him for their "Peacemaker of the Year" award. He worked with Interfaith Housing in Hutchinson, eventually launching a collaborative effort between them and the work of another board which he helped found: CASP (Conservative Anabaptist Service Program).
In the mid-1960s, when a court case was filed locally against an Amish man who refused to send his daughter to high school after the law changed to require attendance till age 16, Dad was the local person who made a trip to Topeka to read a statement to the governor on behalf of those who wished to appeal for an exemption. He did it in company with a group of Holdeman Mennonites from Hesston and surrounding areas. On the way to Topeka, they looked at two statements that had been prepared in advance--one written by Dad and the other by someone else in the group. They voted to have Dad read his own statement to represent the position of the group.
Dad was the Beachy representative to Mennonite Central Committee and served the constituency as representative to the National Service Board for Religious Objectors in Washington, D. C.
Although never a historian in any official sense, Dad was locally the unofficial consultant for anyone who wanted to learn about Mennonite and Amish people's history, being well-informed about both their European roots and the relationships between groups in the US. Steven Nolt came here from Indiana to interview him while he was writing books on Mennonite and Amish history. On a side note, I remember Dad bringing him to the school where I was teaching to show him the building and to introduce him to me. I didn't know who he was at the time, except that he was studying the history of this community.
Dad was drafted after WWII had ended, but before the draft had wound down. He served in Civilian Public Service in Iowa, Colorado, and Mississippi doing jobs ranging from soil conservation to cooking to sanitation projects aimed at eradicating hookworm in the deep South. This work happened alongside conscientious objectors of all stripes, many of them from other Mennonite groups. Some of these people became lifelong friends. One of them became our family physician.
After finishing his obligation to the government, Dad enrolled at Eastern Mennonite College in Virginia (now Eastern Mennonite University). This exposed him to many of the foremost Mennonite leaders of that time. His roommate, Myron Augsburger, later became a prominent leader in Mennonite circles. I remember him visiting in our home and preaching in our church when I was growing up.
For his time, Dad's exposure ran wide and deep. Combined with his commitment to the Lord and his thoughtful, reflective habits, I believe he acquired the necessary humility and confidence to speak and act effectively.
What does this record of my dad's life have to do with government and politics? Hardly anything, as it turns out, and almost everything. It had almost nothing to do with government and politics in that none of the accomplishments in his life came about through political activism. He never voted in any election, to my knowledge, although he may have done so rarely in local elections where he personally knew the candidates. He never identified with any political party or defended any particular candidate. He certainly never campaigned for anyone.
Yet, through communicating with government officials and at times magnifying his efforts through circulating petitions or urging others to make contacts, Dad did influence law making and law enforcement (I just remembered his work in support of making "net metering" an option for people connected to an electric grid who wanted to generate some of their own electricity.) The key difference between what my dad did and what people do who promote or participate in political activism is that Dad's efforts were always centered on appeal and influence toward those already in power--never on wielding the power of his vote or encouraging that others do so. In that way he adhered to the centuries-long Anabaptist tradition of staying clear of political entanglements.
The "almost everything' side of Dad's life in relation to politics and government can be traced to his passion, gifting, and platform for prophetic ministry. He called it "being a witness." When others attempted to summarize Christians' responsibility to government by using a set of rhyming words (pray, pay, and obey), I remember Dad saying publicly that he thought that wasn't quite complete, and that "being a witness" is also part of a Christian's responsibility toward government. He was highly motivated to speak truth to all--perhaps to a fault, whether in everyday life, in the pulpit or in his role as a citizen. Speaking truth to those with political or governmental power happened less frequently than speaking truth to the congregation, but both fit seamlessly into Dad's understanding of his Christian duty. When he spoke truth to the congregation, he helped us all make sense of the world we lived in--even the political parts of that world. His many contacts and his depth of experience in the world beyond the local congregation gave him credibility as a translator of the wider world to the Amish world.
I never heard Dad connect himself to the earliest Anabaptist leaders in this way, but speaking truth to power* as Dad practiced it was a hallmark of their approach. "Disputations" were a thing, with Anabaptists on one side and the religious/civic leaders on the other side. Even when city councils ruled entire city-states, and when these councils switched with alarming frequency between having first a Catholic and then a Protestant majority, each one enthusiastically lopping off the heads of people on the other side, and both of them doing that to the Anabaptists, none of these earliest Anabaptists sought political office in an effort to change things. A central tenet of their "rebellion" against the status quo was love for all, along with a determination to suffer willingly rather than to use force to gain an advantage.
Probably because of horrendous persecution, those Anabaptists who survived this active earlier period eventually put their heads down and concentrated on unobtrusive evangelism, kindness, and diligent service to fellow Anabaptists. They became known as "the quiet in the land." This is the quiet Anabaptist (Amish) world Dad was born into. Indeed, Dad used gentle, respectful words in speaking to or about those in authority, and in that way stayed true to the "quiet in the land" identity as well as the "speaking truth to power" Anabaptist identity.
As the record shows, Dad's decision not to vote or seek public office or government service did not diminish his influence or effectiveness, despite some people believing that he should have done these things. Without developing this further, I feel confident in saying that a case could be made for asserting that voting or holding office would have compromised rather than aided his influence and effectiveness.
Almost everyone reading this has a smaller platform than my dad did--as is true of me also. In the next post, I hope to explore what it means to follow his legacy in spite of that. A collective return to what he taught, both by his life and by his words could start anywhere. Wherever it happens, I hope to be aboard when that train leaves the station.
**************
*"speaking truth to power" may not be as widely understood as I thought. Here's a link that explains it.
posted by Miriam Iwashige at
2:34 PM
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