All four of my grandparents fled Ukraine and Russia in the 1920s, coming to Saskatchewan with some 22,000 other Mennonite immigrants.2 During the Russian Revolution and Civil War (1917–21), they and other German-speakers endured a continuous climate of violence, plundering, rape, and killing. As a child, I knew something unspeakable had happened to them. But my grandparents spoke only about the good times and the vast abundance and beauty of the land. In my senior year at a Mennonite high school in Saskatchewan, our drama teacher had us perform a reader’s theater rendition of Barbara Claassen Smucker’s novel Days of Terror. 3 Survivors of the Zerrissenheit (a German term loosely translated as “a time of being torn apart”) spoke with us about their experience. Seeds of a call to become a “remembearer” in my community were planted in me, which have grown for thirty years. Click here to keep reading.
Exactly one hundred years ago as I write, during Christmas 1918, in the community of Osterwick, Ukraine, my maternal grandmother Margreta survived a two-week home invasion—one episode in what one historian called “a continuous climate of violence, plundering, rape, mass killing and extensive bloodbaths” endured by Mennonites (and others) during the Russian Civil War from 1917-1921. The men of the house had fled into the forest while thirteen-year-old Margreta and her older sister and girl cousins had been hidden in the attic. My great-grandmother Anna fed and bandaged the wounds of rough, demanding peasant soldiers in the rooms below, trying to respond to violence with courage and hospitality. It is difficult to believe that she escaped sexual violation, as claimed by family stories passed down; my studies with descendants of other Mennonite women who experienced similar depredations suggests their stories were lost, silenced, or suppressed. Still, Anna’s non-violent actions may have warded off the worst. Some months later, for example, her sister and three relatives were brutally murdered in their basement, and Margreta would lose more family members and friends in the following years. So my grandmother experienced severe trauma yet also witnessed her mother’s profound trust in God and in her religious tradition of nonresistance.
Click HERE to read the rest of Elaine’s piece at Rock! Paper! Scissors!
Elaine Enns, DMin, a Canadian Mennonite, is an educator, writer, facilitator and trainer in conflict transformation. She focuses on how restorative justice applies to historical violations, including issues of intergenerational trauma and healing. Elaine has been working in the field of restorative justice since 1989. For the first 15 years of her career, she was part of the pioneering generation of contemporary restorative justice practitioners whose focus was on the Criminal Justice System. Elaine facilitated victim-offender dialogues, provided training and worked to apply restorative justice principles and theory to conflict issues in schools, communities and churches. Born and raised in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, she lives in Oak View, CA, where she is co-director of Bartimaeus Cooperative Ministries (www.bcm-net.org).
Because Christmas has become so central to the American economy and American consumption is so central to global capitalism, this festival of ‘Holy Days’ has become a central expression and embodiment of American imperial domination, an imperial religion. Richard Horsley, Religion and Empire (2003)
Truly, this Season signals a major tension for North American radical disciples. We resist and reclaim. Whether it is our love language our not, we give. But some forms of giving are far more redemptive than others.
It is in this Spirit that we offer gift ideas from more out-of-the-way, up-and-coming, long-suffering and open-hearted thinkers and artists. Links to their work are provided here and will eventually be added to our now-pemanent “STORE” tab up top. We hope this list is an Advent-instigator: please add your recommendations to the comments below or email us so we can add them to the store!!!
This year, Charlottesville exposed us all to some of the most vicious forms of American white supremacy. But far less known, C’Ville is home to some radical experimentation, including sweet sounds from a young singer-songwriter. Perfect for people defined by death-and-resurrection.
Probably the most unique musical contribution of the movement is from Philly-based Holy Fool Arts, a voice of and for the wilderness that combines poetry, theatrical masks, ancient rhythms, traditional and modern dance forms, with a heavy side of the blues.
Lastly, a recommendation from author-activist Wes Howard-Brook fair-trade, organic chocolate from Mama Ganache. From WHB:
They are THE BEST! As we all know, corporate chocolate production is both a human and environmental horror show. The folks at MG use their profits to support farmers in West Africa in many ways, as explained on their website. I’ve been ordering from them for years!
In Spiral of Violence (1971), the Brazilian liberation theologian Dom Helder Camara explained that various forms of violence plaguing communities of the poor—from addiction and crime to rioting and guerilla warfare—were all reactions to fundamental experiences of injustice and violation. He called these “Violence #1”…Typically, the conditions of Violence #1 are woven into the fabric of society, and thus widely accepted as “normal,” “inevitable” or “beyond our capacity to change.” But human beings sooner or later react to violation, Camara argued. Continue reading “Types of Violence”→
Therefore, from now on we regard no one from a human point of view. Even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away. See, everything has become new! (II Cor 5:16-17) 
The apostle urges disciples to view the world no longer “from a human point of view”—literally, “according to the flesh.” The “flesh” (Gk sarx) does not refer to our bodies or our sexual passions, the widespread misunderstanding of Christian pietism.  Rather, it is one of Paul’s favorite metaphors for the deeply-rooted, socially-conditioned worldview we inherit from our upbringing. It is the sum total of personal and political constructs and conventions that define what it means to be a member of a given culture—in other words, the way most folk think and act. A key example of the perspective of the “flesh” that we raise throughout this project is the dominant assumption that the “moral” response to violation is punishment. To challenge this cultural conviction quickly engenders passionate and often irrational resistance that is both broad (i.e. the majority opinion) and deep (welling up from the core of individual psyches). This is the power of the “flesh” in Paul’s sense. Continue reading “The Flesh”→
Day 20 of our Lenten Journey through Dr. King’s “Beyond Vietnam.”
Also, it must be clear that the leaders of Hanoi considered the presence of American troops in support of the Diem regime to have been the initial military breach of the Geneva Agreement concerning foreign troops. They remind us that they did not begin to send troops in large numbers and even supplies into the South until American forces had moved into the tens of thousands.
Hanoi remembers how our leaders refused to tell us the truth about the earlier North Vietnamese overtures for peace, how the president claimed that none existed when they had clearly been made. Ho Chi Minh has watched as America has spoken of peace and built up its forces, and now he has surely heard the increasing international rumors of American plans for an invasion of the north. He knows the bombing and shelling and mining we are doing are part of traditional pre-invasion strategy. Perhaps only his sense of humor and of irony can save him when he hears the most powerful nation of the world speaking of aggression as it drops thousands of bombs on a poor, weak nation more than eight hundred, or rather, eight thousand miles away from its shores.
I was born only a few months after Dr. King delivered his Riverside sermon. In today’s passage, King names American duplicity, lying and subterfuge to justify military aggressions in Vietnam. Unfortunately there would be plenty of opportunity in my life time to learn that these strategies are not exceptions but rules of American foreign and military policy. This part of King’s analysis is very specific to the diplomatic deception around the Indochina War in 1967, and at first glance it does not seem to be relevant today. But in fact, even here where King is addressing political particulars, we are seeing him unmask American government’s habit of “refusing to tell the truth” about our foreign policy objectives including fundamental misrepresentation of the enemy in order to justify domestically its military escalation.
In 1990, shortly after I arrived in California from my home place of Saskatoon, SK I got to witness firsthand the lies and propaganda of the first Gulf War. But 13 years later, during the second Gulf War, was my baptism by fire into this reality. In the spring of 2003, Ched and I were visiting professors at Memphis Theological Seminary and Christian Brothers University. We learned quickly that many folks in the “Bible belt” South didn’t like to hear U.S. policy criticized or a war effort questioned. I was teaching a class at Christian Brothers University; half of the students were African American women. In January our class began by looking at basic Restorative Justice theory and practice, which set the context for difficult but meaningful discussions during the days leading up to the second Bush invasion of Iraq in March. It was during this time that Ched and I first started using the King sermon to speak truth to this new chapter in American duplicity – the relentless fabrication of Iraq’s alleged weapons of mass destruction. Up until that time, my experience in teaching Restorative Justice had been that once students wrestled with more complex narratives of violation, and mapped them on the “spiral of violence” model they tended to question the dominant paradigm of retributive justice (see Ambassadors Vol 11). However, in the early days of this second Gulf War, the majority of my white students remained stuck in the prevailing war propaganda. Each class became more difficult for me, and I only survived because of the Black students who privately thanked me, saying “we never have conversations like this here.” In one poignant exchange, a Black mother of two small children revealed with fear and frustration that she was being deployed to Iraq; we cried together. (The fact that there is still a disproportionate number of people of color in the “volunteer” military underlines the persistence of the “economic conscription” King called out in this sermon.)
Once the bombing of Iraq commenced, Ched and I looked for ways to break the silence that had descended on the Memphis citizenry (especially the churches). King’s Riverside sermon was a powerful gift and tool we used repeatedly; it was far more effective to let this “national hero” frame issues that had suddenly become taboo in the “fog of war.” The resonance was immediate—whether it engendered embrace (in African American congregations) or resistance (in most white congregations) into which we were invited to preach. The power and poignancy of this text inspired us to use it again to engage the so-called “war on terrorism” in our Philadelphia Word and World School later that year.
Today, almost 15 years and many more military interventions later, it is obvious that we still need to revisit this sermon. Clearly, we have not yet fully grasped the key integrative elements of Dr. King’s catechism as he applied it to the Indochina war, namely:
To understand militarism as the war of the rich against the poor;
To analyze foreign policy through the lens of race and neo-colonialism; and
To insist that injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
May this 50th anniversary review help us inscribe King’s truth spoken to power on our own hearts.
From Elaine Enns, the conclusion of “The Stories the Land Holds: Mennonites, Trauma and Indigenous Justice,” a talk given at Mennonites, Land and the Environment: A Global History Conference in Winnipeg, Manitoba on October 28, 2016:
Whether we are born here or recent immigrants, we Settlers arrived into a storied and traumatized landscape. Too often we Mennonites have held so tightly to our bloodlines of pain and survival that we ignore these landlines of Indigenous suffering and resiliency. I helped organize a gathering in Saskatoon two weeks ago on the TRC Calls to Action. Harry Lafond, Executive Director of the Treaty Commissioner in SK, told us simply and poignantly, “My loss, is your loss.” Cree elder A.J. Felix agreed: “We are here to talk about how we get well—you and me.” Indigenous leaders understand that our healing as Settlers depends on our willingness and ability to re-vise our stories, and re-member the stories of the land and its First Peoples. Continue reading “Historical Response-Ability”→
Scripture: “Though an army encamp against me, my heart shall not fear… For God will hide me in a shelter in the day of trouble.” Psalm 27:3a, 5a
As babies, both Moses and Jesus were hidden away from danger during times of war and oppression by courageous caregivers. This archetypal script is also found in my family story, and perhaps in yours. My grandmother grew up in the Mennonite village of Osterwick, Ukraine. As a result of endemic injustice under the Tsar, the Russian Revolution broke out in 1917, and civil war raged through the country. In Ukraine, a peasant army arose to fight for independence, but their methods were often brutal, including home invasions. In December 1919, my great-grandmother Anna Schulz’s house was commandeered for two weeks. The males of the house had to flee for their lives into the nearby forest, while my fifteen year-old grandmother, along with her sister and girl cousins, were hidden up in the attic. Anna proceeded to feed, clothe, and nurse the rough soldiers. In the face of terror, she committed her life to her Divine protector, and practiced non-violence. Continue reading “Freed from Fear to Shelter the Vulnerable”→
From the conclusion of Elaine Enns’ recent piece “Trauma and Memory: Challenges to Settler Solidarity” in the recent edition of Consensus: A Canadian Journal of Public Theology. Click on to read the full article HERE:
Faith communities among Settlers need to create safe spaces to give testimony about intergenerational trauma, but also provide opportunities for privileged people to face our culpability, and build courage and skill to engage in justice-work. Over the last year I have engaged a variety of groups to do this work. Continue reading “Trauma and Memory”→