Prayers of gratitude and intercession

Sunday morning

Ruth is the only book in the biblical canon named after a foreign woman. The book centres on Ruth, a Moabite, and her mother-in-law, Naomi, who return to the land of Judah. Calamity, displacement, barrenness, death and survival can be found in the first five verses of this book. It opens with a famine in Bethlehem, a crisis which forced Naomi, her husband Elimelech, and their sons to migrate to Moab. Then, Naomi’s sons took Moabite wives. As the story goes, the three men of the family died in this foreign land. Three women survived: one Israelite mother and two Moabite daughters-in-laws.

Our global Anabaptist family also faces these predicaments today. The COVID-19 pandemic has forced us to postpone MWC’s Indonesia Assembly. These past two years, we have witnessed the horror of death because of the raging virus, a horror which we cannot see its end to this day. We heard deaths every day during the heights of the pandemic. Indeed, we have good vaccines, but the problem is not over. New outbreaks still take place in different countries, and these brought about shortages of food and daily needs. The virus separated us from our loved ones and isolated us from each other.

In the book of Ruth, the three vulnerable, disenfranchised women are at the frontier of strange lands, standing on the borderland between Moab and Israel. Moab is a still a strange land to Naomi and so she decides to go home to Bethlehem. But the land of Judah is a strange land to Orpah and Ruth. These childless widows cannot know if they will find a place of security or a home in a new land.

Naomi admonishes her daughters-in-law not to follow her to Bethlehem. They must return to their homeland to find husbands. Orpah yields to Naomi and kisses her mother-in-law goodbye. Ruth, however, persists to follow Naomi wherever she goes.

Naomi, Orpah, and Ruth are us. Today, many people live like these vulnerable widows. This book is rich in depicting problems shared by our Anabaptist family: women and children who live under the trauma of domestic violence, the dire effects of climate change, hostilities toward immigrants, injustice toward people with disabilities or who are gender minorities and consequences of colonialism. As we conclude the Indonesia Assembly 2022, we are ready to depart from the island of Java. But where shall we return?

Naomi’s return with her daughter-in-law Ruth is not only a story about the survival of two worthless women. Indeed, this story can be seen as one of the greatest stories of reconciliation in human history. In the Bible, the story of Moab and the Moabites is full of scandal and malice. For the Israelites, the Moabites were hostile pagans and thus forbidden from entering Israel’s religious gatherings, even to the tenth generation. Foreign wives could be expelled among the Israelites in Ezra and Nehemiah.

The book of Ruth presents a different story, however. Biblical scholar Eunny P. Lee opines that Ruth offers “an alternative vision of a caring community.” Moab is thus “a theologically evocative space, the boundary to the promised land,” a liminal space at which “cultural negotiations and identity (re)construction take place.” For Naomi, returning to her place of origin is a negotiation of identity and destiny. Together with her daughter-in-law Ruth, a barren widow from Moab, the challenge could be more intense. Ruth’s commitment to follow Naomi shows a profound courage to break the boundaries of ethnicity and race, nationality, religion, and age. Reconciliation cannot be achieved when there is no commitment to cross boundaries.

Ruth’s commitment to her mother-in-law is depicted in an astonishing way: Ruth clings to Naomi (1:15). The Hebrew verb (dâvaq) expresses Ruth’s deepest commitment. The same word can be found in Genesis 2:24 to describe a man’s union with a woman in marriage. In leaving his father and mother, the husband clings to his wife and the two become one flesh. Ruth thus chooses to be “one flesh” with her mother-in-law over her family of origin. By venturing to a strange land and to an unknown people, Ruth refuses the status of a worthless woman based on heterosexist patriarchal definition of family and childbearing.

But there is more in this story. This unconventional bond between two women is between mother-in-law and daughter-in-law, a relationship which often filled with tension and rivalry in many cultures. In some Asian cultures, this relationship can be downright oppressive. Ruth’s first words demonstrate her independent character: a marginalized woman who shows fidelity and solidarity with another woman. If fidelity and solidarity can be found among us, the seed of reconciliation has been planted in our midst.

As we conclude the Indonesia Assembly 2022, where shall our global Anabaptist family go?

Yes, we must follow Jesus across barriers, ones created by human structures which separate us from our neighbours. I recall one event in my teenage years through which I was called into the ministry of the Word. In 1993, David W. Shenk of Eastern Mennonite Mission visited my home church GKMI Kudus and gave a message. In the past, Christianity was spread from West to East. Today, mission has changed its direction. The West, said Shenk, also needs missionaries from the East, thus breaking barriers between West and East.

The old paradigm of Christian mission, one centred on evangelism and church planting, cannot be sufficient. Spreading the gospel must not simply mean offering the good news for non-believers. The goal of Christian mission must be living fully in a new family, a kinship in which the loving presence of God can be experienced within, among and between all. In the gospels, this is called the kingdom of God. Indeed, in Christ we find new siblings from around the world. We are all loved by the Lord and, as Pastor Saptojo Adi of GITJ puts it in a hymn, we come together “whether from West or East.” As such, living in a new family must encourage us to revisit our ministry. Ministry must mean a commitment to living out the good news with those on the margins of power.

Today, we are not only called to celebrate our faith together, but to dismantle the long repercussions of Western colonialism, resulting from the doctrine of discovery in the Americas, the imposition of chattel slavery on people from Africa and genocides of indigenous peoples. Today, migration to foreign lands because of climate change, war and poverty can be found in many parts of the world. Those immigrants are vulnerable to new surroundings. They often face intolerance and appalling hostility from the host country as they try to assimilate to new contexts and cultures. Today, we are challenged by young people who join hands, raising global awareness to the climate crisis. In Kenya, says MWC vice president Rebecca Osiro, young people of her local congregations know that creation care must begin with them.

Today, women are still living in a highly patriarchal and sexist society. As valiant survivors of sexual abuse are calling out the duplicity of religious leaders, entertainment stars, sport heroes and politicians, we are challenged to raise our voice together with these survivors. We must revisit our discipleship through the “wisdom of women” in their everyday struggle – “en la lucha” as Elizabeth Soto Albrecht says. “Through the eyes of women,” theologian Darryl W. Stephens writes, “we are reminded that the personal is political, that peacemaking pertains to the home as well as to the war and that the good news of Jesus Christ proclaims not suffering and docility but liberation and justice.”

Siblings in Christ, as we look forward to the next General Assembly in Ethiopia 2027, let us continue to follow Jesus together. Let us proclaim the gospel of liberating peace, breaking barriers and crossing boundaries set up by the unjust powers to isolate us from each other. May we find a home wherever Christ’s light will lead us, a home shared with those deemed worthless by the world. Amen.

‚Äî‚ÄØNindyo Sasongko is a teaching fellow at Fordham University, theologian in residence at Manhattan Mennonite Fellowship and a member of MWC’s Creation Care Task Force. Originally from Indonesia, he served as a minister in Gereja Muria Kristen Indonesia (GKMI).

This article first appeared in Courier/Correo/Courrier October 2022.

Saturday night

In Africa, when we talk about celebrating, we are unpacking robust and unfettered joy, loud and heartfelt singing, vibrant dancing to music and drums, ululating, whistling, stamping of feet and clapping of hands. Celebration denotes a merry heart! We celebrate when there is love, joy, peace and happiness.

In Southern Africa we have a concept called Ubuntu. Ubuntu says, “I am because you are … a person is a person because of other people.” This concept embraces all sorts of values such as love, respect, togetherness, forgiveness, kindness and others. I believe that the Ubuntu concept is strongly akin to Christianity, because it says, “Do to others what you would have them do to you” (Matthew 7:12a, NIV). It is, after all, the Jesus way.

Having said that, Ubuntu does not always function perfectly. We live in an ailing planet, where people are broken, hurting and miserable as individuals; as families; as church and communities; as nations and globally too. Love, peace and joy are a far cry from many of us in a society filled with pain. Strife is rife within and without. There is need to rebuild destroyed relationships.

The story of the prodigal son has always been an excellent illustration of how we leave the comfort of God’s goodness and push for our own way as our hearts direct. When we hit brick wall after brick wall and begin to suffer, we then come to our senses and plan to go home to seek forgiveness and reconciliation. And our loving Father is, in essence, always waiting to slaughter a fattened calf and call for celebration and jubilation.

I wish to share a testimony, which might be a reflection of what happens in families, in communities, in any nation and also world over. Though it happened a long time ago, I have witnessed similar happening all the time in families and in my community.

This is the story of a prodigal daughter, spiritually, and a prodigal father.

I was brought up in a home that espoused the Lord God deeply, a legacy of my paternal grandfather, further nurtured by my devout mother. Life was good. My father was brilliant, well respected and he had a very good and well-paying job that cared for the family well. But in my youth, things began to change. Sin had been crouching at the door, and as Peter says, the enemy is forever prowling around like a roaring lion seeking for someone to devour (1 Peter 5:7).

Father strayed from home, then on his return, he decided to kick my mother out of her matrimonial home. I was the eldest child in the family. I began to see my siblings suffer at the hands of the new woman brought into the home. I was away from home at college most of the time, but I kept getting disturbing and stressful reports of how my siblings were being abused. So, I decided to keep a little diary where I recorded each negative action committed. Each time I made an entry, my heart became more bitter, and resentment created a cold hardness within. The wrongs recorded filled pages and pages. My heart was filled with venom and the wall of hostility toward a man I had loved and revered as a father grew thicker and taller.

It took one uncle that I highly respected to try and talk me out of that bitterness. He reminded me of the commandment that comes with a promise: “Honour your father and mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you” (Exodus 20:12, NIV). I thawed somewhat, but I still planned revenge. The very following weekend was Passion weekend. On the Friday, I attended a sermon where the pastor really nailed it as he emphasized Jesus’ words when he hung on the cross. He said, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34a).

I was not hearing that Scripture for the first time, but that day it pierced my heart. Jesus was wounded for me and was nailed on the cross for me. Jesus forgave me. So, who was I to hold a deep grudge against my one and only father who brought me to this world? What did I mean when I said the Lord’s prayer, “Forgive us our sins, as we have forgiven those who sin against us” (Matthew 6:12, NLT)? I wept. I repented. I sought forgiveness from God. I could not wait to seek forgiveness from my father as I had become rude and disrespectful to him, negatively influencing the brood behind me.

When I got back to residence, I fished out the vile diary, shredded the pages and made a bonfire outside. As the soot particles blew away in the wind, I felt the heaviness lift off my heart and my shoulders. Sweet relief. When vacation came, I sought my father’s forgiveness. It was a meeting of both the prodigal daughter and the prodigal father. There was rejoicing at the reconciliation. We became the best of friends from that time, and I even cared for my father when he was terminal with cancer until he passed on. Christ is our peace… He “destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility…” (Ephesians 2:14, NIV).

It is good to have the love of family members, which does not depend on feelings and circumstance. That love should be like that of God, who says: “Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands …” (Isaiah 49:15-16). This is deep love, unfathomable, without depth or breadth or height.

People are not really separated by race or creed or colour. We are separated by sin that grows and festers, spreading like a cancer within our hearts. In any one country in Africa, people are separated by barriers of ethnicity and tribe. Evil thrives when people focus on their own tribal groupings at the expense of those who are considered outsiders. The same applies anywhere else in the world. We need Christ, the Great Reconciler. The Word says, “… if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation.” The Word goes on to say, “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Corinthians 5:17,18, 21).

It is when we believe and live in Christ that we experience love, forgiveness and the joy of reconciliation. Those we considered enemies and foreigners before become “… members of the household of God …” (Ephesians 2:19c).

In conclusion, there really is no love, joy and peace or any other spiritual gift when people dwell in sinful ways. Sin begets loneliness and strife. Only in Christ can we celebrate together true love, forgiveness and reconciliation. Hallelujah!

—Barbara Nkala is an experienced leader in education and publishing. She served as MWC Regional Representative for Southern Africa (2016-2022).

This article first appeared in Courier/Correo/Courrier October 2022.

Saturday morning

God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good. This is what Genesis tells us when God had created heaven and earth.

God is celebrating the goodness of all creation. Is this still true?

Is this “very good” still there in these troubled times? Where is it in the horror when a mother has to watch her children being killed by soldiers?

When women are raped, when terrorists attack villages? Sometimes this “very good” seems to sink back and disappear into deep darkness.

In Mennonite World Conference, I serve as a deacon. We visit people to stand with them to say that the global body of the church is here with you. We visit where the church celebrates in joy, like when a new church building is opened. We visit people in suffering, like in DR Congo, in Burkina Faso. And I have discovered: Yes, the beauty of God is still there dwelling here among us in these dark hours.

In DR Congo, an MWC Deacons delegation visited some of the churches that had opened their homes to displaced people fleeing from the war zones in the east. The visitors listened to stories of unimaginable horror, to women who had been forced to watch their husbands and children killed, to women who been raped and had barely survived. Many of them just sat silent, unable to tell what had happened to them.

As a visitor, what words can you find to comfort? The visitors often just sat, wept, helpless, left without words to respond.

And it was these women who found the strength and words to comfort their visitors left speechless when faced with these horrors. These women were standing alongside, comforting those who came to comfort them. I see the beauty of God the Creator in them in this deep embrace. The “very good” of God shines up out of all this darkness.

We visit each other like the friends of Job came to visit him in his sorrow. They came and sat in silence with him for seven days and seven nights. Sat with him in his darkness. They sat with Job who struggled to find the justice of God, struggled to find a God he can love.

The word deacon originally means ‘acting in the place of the one who sends you.’ A deacon is the presence of the one who sends the deacon. Close to those special envoys are the angels who bring with them the presence of God, bringing to light the “very good” of creation. Yes, there were angels present in these visits in the Congo. I hope sometimes they entered with the deacons. But in those moments of speechless tears, as they who had suffered terrible violence comforted their visitors – these women were the angels. In their faces, I saw the goodness of God shining out of darkness. We had been visiting in houses of angels.

So let us enter these houses of angels in this broken world, sit with them in sorrow, silently, sometimes with tears, and then, maybe much later, even with shouts of joy. Let us celebrate the goodness of God visiting among us.

—Jürg Bräker serves as general secretary of Konferenz der Mennoniten der Schweiz/Conférence Mennonite Suisse (the Swiss Mennonite conference) and as elder and theologian for Mennoniten Gemeinde Bern (Alttäufer). He also serves on the MWC Deacons Commission (2015-2022).

This article first appeared in Courier/Correo/Courrier October 2022.