Multicultural Canada and Christianity
June 19, 2014 | Patrick Preheim and Arnold Nickel
“Jesus loves the little children; all the children of the world; red, brown, yellow, black and white; they are precious in His sight; Jesus loves the little children of the world.” If the sentiment of this children’s song, which I learned back in the day at Bethesda Mennonite, has any truth claim then God will have found a way to birth Jesus to all cultures of the world. There are well respected Christians who firmly believe the spiritual force we call God has so lovingly pursued humanity that elements of Jesus have been disclosed to all nations and tribes. The thinking goes that those with eyes to see and hearts to feel tap into this universal and yet personal energy of the cosmic Christ. The similarity and compatibility Arnie has observed between Christianity and other major world religions supports this idea.
But we not are all the same. Great world religions can not and should not be flattened to a least common denominator—“the important differences must be frankly admitted” (Ed. L. Miller and Stanly J. Grenz, Fortress Introduction to Contemporary Theologies, 196). There are unique and important theological insights in the Christianity handed down to us that a troubled world hung up with vengeance and violence needs to hear. The story, our story, of a God who redeems friend and foe through suffering love is gold. Christ’s non-violent atonement is a gift God brings the world through traditions like ours. It is not a message preached in many synagogues, mosques, temples, or churches. It is good news for us and others. This is a call for us to deepen ourselves in our tradition as well as reach beyond ourselves in ecumenical and interfaith dialogue. And dialogue is a two way street. Truth be told, a truth Arnie alluded to, we may learn additional mysteries of God as we listen to others. For now, let us consider our language of faith.
Deut 26:1-15 is a scripture which guides us in giving voice to God’s faithfulness, and subsequently our faith, in the context of worship. “A wandering Aramean was my ancestor....” and so begins the great litany remembering the call, suffering, and deliverance of a chosen people. Telling the story of our people—the early Christians, the Mennonites, the Nutana Park story—does something for us. It has the effect of shaking us out of the self-centred worldview to which we often regress; a place our individualistic and consumeristic world wants us. You think the grand human drama is all about you? You think you are the centre of the world? Think again. We are here in this land, all of us, on account of God’s salvation and deliverance through harrowing times. Consider the martyrs of Alexandria whose hospice and health care during the plague drew converts into the church; consider St. Francis who traveled to Egypt in an effort to end the crusades; consider Dirk Willems who reached out to his captor; consider great-grandpa Epp or grand-ma Friesen who survived Czar and Communist. If we are struggling to make sense of faith, it sometimes helps to start with the bigger picture: our denominational story, the history of the church, the ministry of God to those who have gone before us. Wandering Aramean were our ancestors, and let us not forget it.
In v.10 the time setting returns to the present. On account of God’s previous action the speaker of Dt 26 has come to make an offering. The result of the offering is celebration. Do we celebrate enough? Is there enough joy in our worship? Dt. 26 suggests that every presentation of an offering ought to result in joy. Last week’s offerings gave me joy, and I am not talking about money. Kelly Winder carefully crafted words which drew us deeper into worship. Bob Dick blessed us with the beloved classic “The Holy City”. Sparky and the Plugs ignited my engine with their faith filled music. Anita preached a sermon which sent me forth in hope. It was a joyous day all around. It is what should happen when offerings are made.
Today Patty and I are supplementing our tithe with a small offering as well. We are grateful to God that we are in Canada a part of the very wonderful Nutana Park Mennonite Church. Finding meaningful work in the Promised Land is not easy, and yet here we are in this fantastic congregation. In addition to my employment at the church Patty fell into the chaplaincy position at the Mennonite Nursing Home in Rosthern, and this has been a rich experience for her. As Arnie mentioned, navigating the permit and immigration process is hard business. Paper work aside I have had to live under constant threat of deportation from my sponsor, my wife, should my attitude or attention to home slacken. But God has been gracious and I / we have made it. Yes, we are grateful to God to be here! And it is appropriate our offering of crackers, cheese, punch and coffee be made in the church for we are grateful to God and for you. It is with joy we offer it to God and hope that it brings others joy as well. And actually, that is the trajectory of Dt 26.
Did you notice that in v. 13 the sacred portion offered in joy is loosed upon the widows, the orphans, and the aliens? This is great stuff! Sure the Levite gets some of the sacred portion (and today I will be sure to snap up the leftovers), but a lot of it is reserved for the most vulnerable of the congregation, AND the aliens who were in no way Jewish. Joy bubbles up in the house of worship flowing out into the community. This is what our worship and our offerings and our lives are to be about. Worship is the mechanism setting it in motion. Powerful stuff: collective and individual worship extending into the community. And that takes me to a brief reflection on the language of faith Christians might use outside of the church in our pluralistic and multicultural Canada.
Adapting something from the January newsletter of this year... On December 9, 2013, I attended a forum Bishop Don Bolan convened to explore the following topic—Faith in the Public Sphere: Discerning a constructive place for religion in a healthy pluralistic society...braving the -30 cold I made my way to the downtown library. The place was packed; standing room only for the late comers. Eight individuals from a variety of faith traditions...were given seven minutes to address the question. As each spoke I found myself formulating my Mennonite response had I been asked to share. And then Heather Fenyes, the former president of a Jewish congregation spoke. Her reflections and my hastily assembled thoughts tracked a nearly identical path. She said:
[Prayer] is by definition more than worship alone, because the word “avodah” means “work.” For me, this active “prayer” happens whenever we engage in social justice or, in what we call in Hebrew, tikkun olam: the act of repairing our world. When we come together to do good, as Martin Buber says, G-d is in the room. Therefore, when we are trying to find the role of prayer and religious symbol outside our places of worship, I would like to suggest that first we need to create a distinction between the kind of prayer that happens within our communities and the kind of “pray of action” that I think belongs outside in the public sphere. By “praying through our deeds” we are creating the largest possible tent of inclusion.
This takes us back to our congregational work with the refugee committee, concerns found in many of our occupations, the focus of our volunteer hours outside of NPMC. When we seek to repair the world we are giving testimony to God. And when hearts have been duly cultivated by God, people will ask why we do what we do. We are Christians in a multi-cultural Canada. May God grant blessing to our witness within these walls and beyond. Amen.
Arnold Nickel's Reflections (PDF)