Thursday, December 10, 2015


With the advent of a new year I am reminded of how fleeting our time on earth is. Instead of treasuring each day we worry about tomorrow, stew over the past, fill our moments with compulsive activity. It's hard to admit just how vulnerable we human beings are. Life is fragile and fleeting. How tragic that in our busyness we miss those special moments that could feed our souls and expand our hearts. 

In 1989 I went into the hospital for fairly routine surgery; read and signed the papers that stated all the possible things that could go wrong, and quipped to my daughter, “No problem, Piece of cake.” Three major surgeries within 6 weeks and one code blue later, I emerged weaker but wiser.....and vastly more appreciative of the preciousness of life.

I no longer assume a tomorrow. Each day is a gift. Rain or shine, cheerful or sad, difficult or easy, each day is a bonus. Knowing that I or one of my loved ones may have no tomorrow is one of the greatest gifts I gained from my hospital experience. Instead of making me fearful, my awareness of life's impermanence helps me appreciate and shape the time I have. It impels me to be grateful in and for all things. The very fragility with which I hold on to life motivates me to cherish each single moment, each sunrise, each bird song, each encounter with strangers or friends. I simply don't have time to be grumpy, ungrateful, or afraid.

I no longer feel compelled to save the world. I've released my need to be someone, to make a difference. I have my hands full, in the best sense of that metaphor, living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time, responding to the inevitable hardships that guide me on my pathway toward inner contentment and peace. Peace comes, not from the absence of conflict, challenge, or pain, but by accepting and loving our difficult lives. Since there is little I can control or change I try to respond to life with as much courage and grace as I can muster.

Perception is reality and our language shapes how we perceive reality. That's one reason I find one particular translation of the Lord's Prayer from the Aramaic so enlightening and helpful. The startlingly different wording has opened me to faith, life and love in new and profound ways. Thus it is my gift to you as we move into the new year.

“O Birther; Father Mother of the Cosmos. Focus your light within us. Make it useful. Create your reign of unity now—your one desire then acts with ours. As in all light, so in all forms. Grant what we need each day in bread and insight. Loose the cords of mistakes binding us as we release the strands we hold of other's guilt. Don't let surface things delude us, but free us from what holds us back. From you is born all ruling will, the power and the life to do, the song that beautifies all, from age to age it renews. Truly, power to these statements. May they be the ground from which all my actions grow, Amen “

Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.










 

I have a touch of the Grinch in me this year. I'm so done with decorating, gift giving, cookie baking, partying. I resent the commercialization designed to make me feel guilty for not spending hundreds of dollars on junk neither I nor mine need. This Christmas I plan to focus on family, friends, neighbors by practicing gratitude and civility. I am looking beyond the hoopla to the underlying meanings and implications of the Christmas narratives. As with all good stories, there are layers of meaning, each offering hope and healing for our tortured times. 

No matter what our religious or ethnic backgrounds, it's easy to see how the time honored birth narratives were written in and for times such as these. A time of fear and mistrust, of economic upheaval. A time of war, terrorism, military occupations, suspicion and political unrest. Into the story come foreigners, cruel dysfunctional governments, soldiers, refugees, massacres, taxation, religious tensions. Their very relevance is exactly what makes these Christmas narratives so powerful. Above all, they are about inclusion, not exclusion. About letting go of fear, Of loving and being loved. Not hatred or revenge. I find it instructive the angels visit, not those in power, but the least, the oursiders, women, shepherds, foreigners. Those with little or no status or legal protection. And the message they all receive? “Fear not. Your hope lies in one greater than you.” What a profound message for us today.

Christmas, this year, comes in the wake of Paris, Mali, and other “terrorist” attacks, stirring up our xenophobic fears and rancid debates on immigration, fueling the race to see which political candidate can be more outrageous. While I understand some of the angst created by this latest wave of “terrorist” attacks, I'm confused as to why they are scarier than those we're regularly experiencing from our own homegrown terrorists: Oklahoma City, Newtown, Columbine, Aurora, Charlestown, Colorado Springs. We have a much greater chance of being shot by some local person with a grudge and a gun than by a Muslim extremist. But whether the source of our fear is local or distant, the Christmas message remains. Fear not. Good news! One has come to show us the way to create peace on earth. A peace that starts within us and flows out from our acts of kindness, forgiveness, and generosity like ripples in a pond. Peace experienced by embracing God's will and way for our lives, no matter how difficult. Yes, these are troubled times, but they are also times of immense opportunity. 

In these darkest days and nights of the year may we turn our hearts toward the promise of God's love and light. May we find the courage to break the chains binding us to fear, distrust, unforgiveness, and failure. May we embrace the promise that we guarantees our freedom and grace by providing freedom and grace to others. May we find in the lights, fragrances, and melodies of Christmas a transcending harmony enabling us to hear the angels' song beautifying all and the star leading us to the manger where we see the in face of God justice, forgiveness, and mercy.

“Fear not.”


Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.










Birthday musings


I recently celebrated my birthday. Perhaps getting closer to 80 is a factor, but I get really irritated with the way we “oldsters” buy into our national obsession with youthfulness by feeling we have to dye our hair, get tummy tucks, Botox injections, spend a fortune on wrinkle creams just to look younger. What's wrong with wrinkles, white hair, sagging bottoms and chicken wings, all proud badges of years of living? After all, wisdom, insight and a broader perspective comes with time and experience. The power, prestige and possession I thought important 40 years ago seems insignificant now. It's people and relationships that now bring joy. Give me kindness, gentleness, a willingness to listen and forgive any day!

Years ago I met this woman at a writer's conference years who transformed my attitude toward aging. She was bent over from osteoporosis, frail as tissue paper. When asked to share something with the group, she leaned on her cane, twisting her head until she could meet our eyes. “I'm 96 years old.” she said in a cracked voice. “I've outlived three husbands and had four careers. I've been a medical doctor, a psychologist, a psychiatrist. I recently retired as a theology professor. I'm here today because having 2 sons and 8 grandchildren, I've decided to write childrens books. So you see, my pet peeve is someone telling me 'you don't look that old.' I've packed a lot of pain, pleasure, study, knowledge, people, and experience in my 96 years and I don't want one minute of that sold short!” You know, there are those who keep growing and those who simply age. She was definitely growing! But whether we keep growing or just age is a deliberate choice.

After serious birthday inspired introspection I'm recognizing some areas where I've been aging not growing. That needs to change! Looking at this whole process of growing, maturing, aging...however we want to describe the passing years and life lessons ticking by ever more quickly, is demanding. And the physical, emotional, spiritual, relational, creative challenges life brings can be mind boggling! As the old cliché says, “getting old is not for sissies.”

I'm grateful that I still enjoy good health. Part of that flows from good genes, good luck, and important life style choices I've made. The food, exercise, life style, emotional and spiritual choices I've made over the years definitely contribute to my continuing vitality. My Dad taught me to value differences in others and ideas, to embrace change, to practice tolerance, to seek knowledge, to accept people as they are not as I would have them. He taught me to value the deeply held beliefs that shape my life but to never stop questioning and reshaping them as new information, situations and times change. Yes, I am getting older but that does not stop me from relishing challenges and trying on new ways of seeing, being, and doing. No matter how young or old we are, life is a delicate dance, a baffling balancing act, a time to keep growing instead of just aging in place.

Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.





Thanksgiving is thanksliving


I am a fan of TED Talks on NPR. One recent program on happiness ended with 'happiness does not make us grateful, gratitude makes us happy.”

You know me; I'm big on gratitude. I have learned that anytime I'm having a bad day it's better if I intentionally practice gratitude. Once I let go of my“poor me mindset” I am freed to find healthier responses to whatever is going om. Like not having water at the kitchen sink for three weeks! Thinking of the Syrian refugees or poor women carrying water for miles quickly put my situation into perspective. It's our selfish catastrophic thinking that turns difficulty and pain into disabling unhappiness and fear of the future. While gratitude can't change what's happened it can infuse glimmers of light into the current darkness.

I find this gratitude stuff interesting because I am a natural skeptic. My tendency is to question and doubt. That's why I've taught myself to look for positives, to count my blessings. I'm deliberately rejecting the cup half empty approach to life.    Like Porgy, in Gershwin's Porgy and Bess, I remind myself that “I have plenty of nothing and nothing is plenty for me.” Even on the worst days of my life, as when my Dad died in an auto accident or one of our kids ran away, I was reminded by the kindness of friends that there's always more positives than negatives in my life.

We all spend too much energy lusting for things we don't have rather than being grateful for what we do have. Our economy is based on conspicuous consumption so we've allowed ourselves to be brainwashed into believing stuff makes for meaning and happiness, but there's a vast difference between needs and wants. In the end we have so much we don't need that we can't appreciate what we do have.

I am grateful that I grew up believing people are more important than things, that it is in doing for others I find meaning and purpose in life. I've learned that what is good for others is always what's ultimately best for me. A recent study of returning vets with PTSD finds their biggest problem is not flashbacks, but their loss of meaning and purpose. After putting their lives on the line day after day, protecting and supporting their buddies, coming back to our self-centered consumer driven lifestyle leaves them feeling empty and directionless. One psychologist suggested that every returning vet should be automatically placed in the Peace Corps or Ameri-Corps for a year's transition.

Contentment and meaning comes by sharing ourselves with others, by appreciating the givens of life. After all, the sun comes up and sets every day; we have clean air and water; more than enough food to go around. Birds sing, flowers bloom, trees blaze with color, regardless of what we do. We may complain about taxes, entitlements (for everyone but ourselves), a broken infra structure and educational system, but in reality things still work pretty well. If we practiced gratitude we'd stop taking so much for granted and appreciate what others do for us. There are parts of the world where people are suffering. So this Thanksgiving let's remember, its not happiness that creates gratitude but gratitude that creates happiness.

Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church


Thursday, November 5, 2015

Random Acts of kindness


Isn't it interesting that Jesus, the Buddha, Mohammed, all presented humanity with what an alternative approach to life? Our natural bent is “it's all about me.” Conequently, we take their teachings and use them to justify our fear based greedy, selfish, mistrustful, power hungry, violent approach to the world. But they quietly insisted that if we really want to excell, be powerful, even just maintain what we already have, we have to love the stranger and “our enemies.” We are to do good to those who use and abuse us. To give respect, hospitality, and opportunity because in so doing we turn those we fear and misunderstand into partners and friends, thus, in the end, making us all safer!

For 55 years the International Gift Festival has transformed little Fairfield Mennonite into an international marketplace of fairly traded pottery, jewelry, baskets, toys, textiles, Christmas decorations, paper products, soaps, Oriental rugs... all made by fairly paid artisans from over 30 developing countries.

But what does that have to do with loving our enemies or practicing the golden rule? Everything. By creating dependable jobs and a secure market, by having Muslims work alongside Christians, by teaching the uneducated how to advocate for themselves, Ten Thousand Villages has gone into destitute areas of the world and created pockets of respect and financial stablility, creating trust among neighbors, as well as for the United States and the larger church. Something very needed in today's broken world.

OK. I agree that what we do as individuals often seems insignificant. Even if Ten Thousand Villages is one of the largest fair trade organizations in the world, the millions it sells is a pittance in our trillion dollar global market. But that's not the point, especially if you're one of the artisans they support. When Jesus told the parable about the mustard seed he was pointing to us as the mustard seeds of the world. What we do matters.

That first International Gift Festival started as an impulsive act of concern for Edna Ruth Byler who had worked with her husband in impoverished areas after WWII. There she noticed the poor and displaced creating beautiful items from the trash and rubble around them. So she tried to sell some to her Amish and plain Mennonite communities. Not being able to say no to desperate need, her basement quickly filled up with more than she could sell. None of us anticipated those first festivals designed to help Mrs. B move accumulated merchandise would strongly contribute to the fair trade movement. But they did.

Our intentional and random acts of kindness matter. Adopting a child, mentoring a struggling student, giving an ex-con a job, welcoming an immigrant may not have that fairy tale ending we desire, but if we don't try, nothing changes. And we do know that in the past 55 years the shoppers at Fairfield's International Gift Festival have purchased over a million dollars worth of crafts and rugs positively impacting over 60,000 lives! And that's not peanuts.

This year's 55th International Gift Festival runs from Nov 10 through 14, 10 am to 7 pm each day except Saturday when its 9 to 5. The Fairfield Mennonite Church is located at 201 W. Main Street, Faifield, Pa. For more info call 717-642-8936, email fmc606@centurylink.net, or check www/fairfieldmennonitechurch.org





Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church


Thursday, October 1, 2015

I love libraries


I love libraries, those magical places where books of all shapes, colors, sizes, smells and topics march smartly along the shelves. Big libraries and little libraries, but my favorite is Fairfield's branch on Wortz Street. Plans are underway to move the Fairfield library to the new Carroll Valley building once it is built since the current location is small. I understand, but it makes me sad. I feel so pampered having our little library just a hop, skip, and a jump away.

The library was an immediate bright spot for me when we moved from our old stone house on Mt. Carmel Rd. Being able to walk to the library never ceases to bring me joy., especially since I don't drive much anymore. There's something magical about being able to slip up to the library any time I want just to browse the shelves, return a book, or say hello. I love having everything in one room, walking up to the desk and asking Sherry or Crystal (two of the best) to order a book knowing that within a few days it will be waiting for me. In the meantime, I go home with an armful of books. Once I asked for a book which wasn't available anywhere in Pennsylvania but Sherry looked until she found one in the Duke Library for me!

I love books. I have a Kindle which is much easier to use when I go to Wellspan to exercise, but that flat plastic thing isn't a real book. Plastic cannot replace the feel of paper, the rustle of turned pages, savoring full page illustrations, flipping pages back and forth to reread a passage, greedily reading knowing my book's battery will never run down.

Libraries are precious repositories of knowledge that connect us to our past and point us toward our future in far more personal ways than the reading something on a computer screen. Libraries bring people together. Libraries have chairs where one can sit and read or research. When I am in the library, I love scanning the cover's synopsis and reading several pages to decide if I like the author's style of writing or if it will challenge or inspire m. When greeting other library lovers who are reading magazines or working on the computers all seems right with the world.

Our kids grew up on books. A trip to the library or library story time was magical for them just as it is for me. Of course, books were such a sacred part of our bed time routine that our kids wanted to be read too even when they were in middle school. When the library had their annual book sale we'd buy our own copies of beloved books so we could reread them. Recently, our daughter walked in the door with a goofy grin on her face. “Look what I found.” she chortled as she dumped a collection of old much loved books on the sofa. “Read to me, Mom. “ So the two of us curled up on the loveseat, arms around each other like the old days, slowly turning pages , savoring the illustrations, we turned back the clock as we fell into the wishes and whimsy of Dr. Suess and other much loved favorites.



Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church








The joys of advertising


Several years ago Toyota featured Daryl Waltrip driving a pick-up tearing up lawns, driving into people's houses, laughing and hooting as he went. No doubt designed to “humorously” demonstrate the power of the pick-up, these ads glamorized bullying. I was so appalled that I called various Toyota dealers until I got someone in higher echelons with whom I could share my utter disgust with their ad.

OK, Earl and I are just two old curmudgeons. While I much prefer public television, we also watch commercial TV. However, since attending a workshop years ago on becoming a discerning TV watcher I've become more aware of the hidden values programs and ads communicate. Advertisers know that we are all deeply influenced by what we read, see, and hear and their goal is to make consuming our essential purpose in life.

The basic message promoted of the money makers is that people are incidental to profits. Everything is about money. Greed is good. Fear and violence sell. Truth telling becomes incidental. Exaggeration is the name of the game. People are valuable only as unthinking consumers. And it's working. Ours is an instant gratification culture. Even in our politics the party line is more important than people needs. Just look at our social policies, infrastructure failures, racial and ethnic divides, health care for profit system, immigration policies.... 

Organizations like ALEC make sure that business interests comes first, taxes stay low, the wealthy get preferential treatment, public education is undermined in favor of for profit charter schools, prisons are privatized, labor unions dismantled, pensions privatized or even eliminated, gun sales pre-empt public safety, and lobbyists write legislation and buy elections. Our politics, films, TV programs, and advertisers glorify violence, market fear, promote selfishness and greed. Smart phones are promoted as preferable to face to face interactions. Technology is designed to marginalize people and maximize profits. Instant gratification and simplistic solutions have replaced long range goals and planning. Who cares what we eat if agribusiness and junk food manufactures turn a profit. Just take a pill instead of eating nourishing organic foods or exercising. Ever wonder why we have an addiction problem? And let's ban abortion and birth control while we sell sex as a commodity.

Reality TV and many “news” channels glamorize bullying, rudeness, ideological sound bites, misdirection and half truths. I used to believe Americans were too smart to buy into the advertisers snake oil or what various media companies pass off as news and unbiased reporting, but I'm being proven wrong. After all, brainwashing works and when one is exposed to an idea or celebrity worship long enough one begins to doubt oneself.

Stores track my purchases and tailor coupons to my buying patterns. We are bombarded by telemarketers and scammers. I'm tired of being told what I should buy, want or believe. I'm appalled at the in-civility of our politicians, the petty partisan politics and self interest that pass for leadership.. Perhaps it's time we all rebel by turning off our TV's, curtail our use of smart phones to necessary calls and go visit our family and neighbors instead. In spite of what we are told, life and truth is not always easy, can't be reduced to an ideology, right/wrong dualism, or something we consume. Good decisions flow from studying facts, postponing gratification, practicing gratitude and concern for others.

Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.

Today's Grumble


As an avid reader I've recently immersed myself in historical fiction. What a reminder that the good old days weren't so good after all. Unfortunately, we haven't learned from history yet as we keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again. When you yearn for “the good old days” just remember that aging and/or being poor was much harder before Roosevelt and social policies such as Social Security. We rightly lament the horrible things ISSIS is doing while forgetting that Christians tortured each other in unimaginable ways during the Inquisition...pouring boiling water poured down people's throats, drawing and quartering, burning people at the stake...

I guess nothing every really changes because human nature hasn't changed. That's why the Bible is still relevant. Jesus famous quote “the poor you will have with you always” recognized that while human greed and selfishness will always be alive and well our selfishness can never be an excuse for not caring about the poor and marginalized. Nor can legislation solve the human nature problem though reasonable regulations can provide some safety checks and balances.

Walking past the waste water treatment plant here in Fairfield I am reminded daily that we are fortunate our federal government require even small municipalities like Fairfield to guarantee its citizens clean drinking water. The same with air pollution. Reading about the early industrial revolution illuminates just how much progress we've made but then John Grisham's GRAY MOUNTAIN is a disheartening reminder of just how much many modern industries such as the coal companies shamefully disregard regulations and pollute the land, water and air endangering everyone.

I am all for capitalism, but without reasonable regulations, greed and self interest will always win out. Which is tragic because in the end, we all sink or swim together. Today's profits can quickly turn into tomorrow's losses when we destroy our environment and impoverish the general public. After all, poor people are not in a position to buy all the unnecessary products mass produced today. And something is woefully wrong when a past president's response to 9'11 was “go shop.”

If I were running for political office I'd create a brand new party called “The Common Sense” party. My platform would be simple, though solutions never are. My platform would advocate setting aside hard line party ideologies in favor of working toward finding common sense solutions. Common sense regulations, common sense salary caps, common sense tax policies, common sense economic, a common sense legal system. While this would not eliminate self interest, it could provides a safe place for negotiation, cooperation, sharing power, benefits and responsibility.

When our kids were small they'd cry “that's not fair” when they couldn't get their way. Well, guess what; life isn't fair. Even so, we humans are capable of working together. It just takes effort and a willingness to actually listen to others as a way to find that much maligned middle ground. What possible good can come out of Pennsylvania's budget impass?  Shutting down the federal government? In the end such stubbornness makes our legislators look like school yard bullies.
 
Oh well.  Enough. 
 
Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.

The power of forgiveness


Aging is interesting. While my outside parts are showing signs of wear and tear, my insides feel much the same, with a few exceptions, the biggest being I am at peace with myself and the world, and hopefully a bit wiser. While it is true that much goes on in the world that disappoints, hurts, and frightens me, I realize that the only person I have any control over is myself and that whatever positive change starts I hope to effect always starts with me! When I change the way I function and react, others are forced to change as well.

The profound wisdom of the Serenity Prayer has been significant in y life. “God grant me the wisdom to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference, Living one day at a time, enjoying one moment at a time. Accepting hardship as the pathway to peace, Taking this sinful world as it is, not as I would have it...”

Aging has taught me the power of forgiveness, the futility of needing to punish the wrongdoer. Harboring negativity inevitably feels like pouring a cup of poison for my offender and then drinking it myself. Forgiveness frees me to look at what happened through transformed eyes, loosing the cords of mistakes binding me to the past by releasing the strands I hold of others guilt. In the end forgiveness makes my life safer and better by turning my enemies into friends, or at least, non enemies.

A true story illustrating this truth: In the early 60's a Korean family came to New York so their gifted son could study medicine, One evening he was murdered by 3 teen gang members. At their sentencing hearing the devastated parents spoke against the death penalty and lengthy incarceration. Since their son was no longer living, they expected these very boys to pick up the dream they'd destroyed by killing their son. They asked the court's to require the boys finish their high school and get college degrees while incarcerated, and they'd pay any costs incurred. God was asking them to adopt these boys and pour all of their love and resources into the very ones who had killed their son. Anything less than the complete transformation of these boys would make their son's death a tragic waste. When the boys came up for parole they asked to have them released into their care. This they said they needed for their own healing.

And so the miracle of forgiveness began... and continues its work through the years, for this quiet Korean couple visited those boys while incarcerated week after week, year after year. They arranged for their education, counseling and religious training with the courts help. Once the boys were released they took them into their home, claiming them as their sons. By refusing to define the boys according to their past, they helped everyone involved see these broken street thugs through a completely different lens. Today one boy is a doctor who runs a street clinic, another teaches in a ghetto school, and third is a missionary in Korea.

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin against us. Loose the cords of mistakes and hate binding us as we release the strands of others mistakes. 

Joyce Shut is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.




Friday, August 14, 2015

Incarceration nation


I find it tragic that the US is known around the world as the incarceration nation. We incarcerate a larger percentage of our citizens than any other country largely because of our ineffective “war on drugs.” We're chosen to spend our limited resources criminalizing the mentally ill and addicted, even though science understands that addiction is an illness created by chemical changes in the brain. Punishment cannot change the body chemistry of a manic depressive, a psychotic, the clinically depressed or an addict. 

Our justice system is more insane than those we incarcerate, as insanity is repeating the same behaviors over and over while expecting different results. Why haven't we learned from Prohibition? Outlawing alcohol consumption didn't stop people from drinking then and it doesn't now. What it did was drive the production and sale of alcohol underground, creating the Al Capones, Mafia, and other violent criminal enterprises, just as our war on drugs has created drug cartels, street gangs, and addiction driven crimes.

It's a basic human tendency to self medicate when in pain, physical or emotional. When we abandoned prohibition we regulated and taxed the production and sale of alcohol, creating a source of public revenue. When we realized that tobacco caused cancer we regulated, taxed, and educated the public about the correlation between cancer and tobacco. Let's take the same approach to “street” drugs. Legalize their possession and use, but regulate their availability, tax their sale, educate the public about their effects, and use the funds generated to treat those suffering from life altering addictions. Several other countries are already doing this. Instead of outlawing drugs, they make them accessible through doctors and clinics who control the purity of the drug and the amount. By taking the power and profit away from criminal enterprises, drug related violence, street gangs, and violent crime in those countries has decreased by more than 70%! Most of their addicts are working and paying taxes!

Let's put our resources into treating addicts not building more prisons! Let's address the social ills that create so much of the poverty and pain that drives addictions. Let's stop making our police the enforcers of bad policy.

Addiction and mental illness is a natural human response to stress, poverty, meaninglessness, family dysfunction, and despair. Addicts are not lazy and morally weak. Addicts are sick. Instead of blaming them for having inherited a genetic propensity for addiction when confronted with stress or painful situations, let's treat them, slowly wean them off of their drugs and counsel them until they no s jailing blacks and Hispanics has not solved our race problem, criminalizing drug use has not stopped people from using. Instead it has increased crime! Let's learn from Prohibition. Let's decriminalize, regulate, and tax drugs. Then we will have the resources we need to establish more treatment facilities, mental health and drug courts as an alternative to expensive incarceration.

Joyce Shutt is the pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.


learning from the past


Today's young women take their education, job opportunities, and career options forgranted. We oldsters remember when birth control was limited and abortions performed in back alleys and women died! When college's had curfews for women but not men, women wore hats and gloves and dresses to go shopping, only men's names were listed in the telephone book. and an unmarried woman was disparagingly called “an old maid.” I am appalled at the growing move to limit access to birth control and abortion, because the real issue is not protecting unborn babies but controlling women, their bodies, and their lives. If the concern was for the babies we'd have different social policies, child care and educational systems.

Remember the Clarence Thomas hearings when Anita Hill was pillared for daring to raise the issue of sexual harrassment? When many churches taught the “chain of command” wherein the man, as head of the household, had the right to dictate everything in the home, and it was legal for husbands to beat and rape their wives?

Fortunately, women turned the church and world upside down by challenging patriarchial language and practices. Back then our “brothers in Christ” insisted male references were inclusive, until they weren't. Men “preached” in church, but women could only “talk,” if that. I attended a workshop where the leader deliberately used only feminime pronouns when reading Scripture, referring to leadership in the church, and God. By the end of the first day, one male pastor acknowledged there was a language problem. After listening to only female references and pronouns he said he felt so excluded he wanted to leave.

And women pastors! God forbid! Women were considered too emotionally and spiritually unstable to think clearly or lead! Their monthly cycles and menopause, you kmow. So when Fairfield Mennonite called me to pastor the church in 1980 that was pretty radical stuff! Granted Mennonites are not the most progressive of demoninations,and after a lengthy application process we were told that while I had all of the attributes they (white ordained men) wanted for pastoral leadership, they (white ordained men) could not ordain me because I was a woman! Fortunately, Fairfield Mennonite did not accept “no” as an answer. I happily pastored Fairfield Mennonite for 20 years, building on my feminine perceptions and skills.. 
Much has changed in the past 50 years, but prejudice and discrimination persist. Women still get blamed for provoking rape and sexual harrassmen, implying that men aren't responsible for their sexual impulses. Really? The glass ceiling continues in business, athletics, the arts, politics. White supremacy is alive and well. Many of Obama's problems stem from his race, just as Nancy Pelosi is pillared because she is an asserrtive female. If she were male she'd be candiate material for the presidency!

While none of us can control the color of our skin or being born male or female, we can control our responses to the hand life deals us. Every painful experience carries with it the opportunity to grow and change, to better understand others' struggles, and to guarantee discrimination and bigotry stops with us.
We can learn from our past and make this a truly great country instead of defending the outdated prejudical ideas we grew up with.



Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.








Thursday, July 2, 2015

In appreciation


Marriage is like two lines that rarely run parallel but squiggle this way and that, occasionally intersecting or running close together. Those times remind us of why we chose each other. People grow at different rates and in directions and if a marriage is to survive one learns to accept the serendipitous bursts of compatibility as sufficient reason to keep one going.

Most days I assume that things will go well. That the bills will be paid. That there's money in the bank. That the kids are making a go of their lives. That my basic needs will be met. And that happens. Too often I take my husband and our relationship for granted which is tragic as I have been much blessed. Gratitude is everything, especially in the face of life's challenges. Gratitude provides the hope, faith, and love needed to keep going.

In spite of illness, addictions, death, and other bumps in the road I wouldn't trade the life we've shared for that proverbial happily ever after. Each of us in our family has been enriched by the difficulties we've faced together, the hurdles we've cleared, and the very real decision we made over and over to stay together in spite of conflict, disappointment, illness, and pain. Not that it's been easy. It hasn't. But we are all so much better for the mountains we've climbed and the rivers we've forded.

My going to seminary and pastoring a church was a big adjustment for a man who grew up believing that women should stay quietly in the background. But in spite of his reservations, he was my protector and defender when attacked by church leaders who saw women as inferior beings. More than once his sense of humor saved the day as when he'd introduce himself as “the pastors wife.” He frequently stepped back so I could do my thing, In so doing he modeled for our kids that strength is not about being in charge but in providing the framework in which others might grow and thrive.

Ours is a culture where we are taught we need to be the biggest and the best, but when we become obsessed with self importance instead of greatness we leave behind ugly scars and deep wounds. Someone once said that we are like a bunch of dogs squirting on fire hydrants, trying to mark everything as “mine.” My spouse is a truly great man. He walks lightly, demonstrating through his actions that since we inevitably hurt the ones we love and the universe we live in, the most important goal we can have is “to do no harm.”

The real heroes are not the rich and famous but those who notice and affirm others, who pay attention even at a cost to themselves. Relationships, especially the marriage relationship, teaches us that we don't get to choose if we get hurt in this world, but we can sometimes choose who hurts and heals us. We've had some really bad times over the years, but by and large I like the choice I made, and given he's stayed with me for 56 years, I trust he does too.

Joyce Shutt is the pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.


A dream for our youth and nation


Earl and I both grew up in relatively liberal Mennonite homes. He came from an Amish Mennonite (Sugarcreek) Ohio community;  I from Adams County. We both graduated from Bluffton College, a small Mennonite liberal arts college in northwestern Ohio that emphasized service as the defining characteristic of an educated person. When he was drafted as a conscientious objector to war he chose to spend his two years in alternative service in post war Europe working with refugees. As a new bride I tagged along.

There was still a lot devastation from the war in 1959. Blocks of bombed out buildings stood next to restored and rebuilt areas and refugee camps had an almost permanent feel. As long as I could remember, family and church Christmas preparations included packing Christmas bundles for refugees, so it was wonderful to actually help distribute them as part of our job. We even got to give out several that had been packed in our home churches. 

We lived in Vienna for 9 months where we met music students, diplomats, military and international personnel. There Earl's job involved 'packing food and clothing parcels which went to families trapped behind the Iron Curtain. Weekends we joined a larger unit of young men who were rebuilding the historic Karlschule in Vienna. Several times we went to Salzburg to help “Lee and Joe” convert an old barn into a dormitory for the 25 handicapped biracial children they'd adopted. When we lived in Enkenbach, Germany, Earl helped build houses for Polish refugees and I, at the ripe old age of 23, served as house mother for up to 25 men. My biggest challenge was creating tasty meals from canned and dried foods and post war rations. We ended our term in Guibweiler, France where we helped in a children's home.

Fortunately, our work required a lot of travel. We made trips to the Yugoslavian and Czechoslovakian borders, to Salzburg, Linz, Heidleberg, Bern, Holland in tulip time, England, and the Holy Lands. Each trip introduced us to new people, exposed us to new ways of thinking, being, and doing. It also exposed us to the “Ugly American” syndrome. Americans abroad can be so rude, arrogant, and disrespectful of local accomodations, customs, and practices. Most Sundays we worshipped in little German Mennonite congregations, but we also attended non-demominational American Churches when possible.

Those two years changed our lives. We went full of ourselves. We came home hunbled. We went to help. We came home having been helped. We went thinking we knew a lot. We came home with more questions than answers. We went expecting to change the world. We returned, the world having changed us.

I wish our nation required every young person, male, female, rich, poor, educated or uneducated to do some form of national service that took them out of their comfort zone. We have become so polarized and fearful of others. Working to help others could transform our nation. Living in a different country certainly made us better, more open minded, and more tolerant individuals!

Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.

Wednesday, May 27, 2015

A great dad


I am one of the lucky ones. I had a great dad. More of an intellectual and naturalist than a businessman, Dad compiled lifetime journals of wild flowers and birds. He did historical research on the Mennonites in this area, publishing his findings. He was the spiritual patriarch of our church.

Seminary students, missionaries, new pastors and their families lived with us until they found more permanent lodgings. We had frequent guests. Following one of mother's fabulous meals, Dad and his friends talked theology and politics. Like a moth attracted to light, I' was mesmerized by the flow of big words.

Dad read to us at bedtime. We'd take our baths, put on our PJ's, then snuggle beside him while he read aloud. After we left home, he read novels to Mother as she crocheted. We didn't get a TV until I was in college, but my Granddad had one. Sundays we went there to watch the Ed Sullivan Show. Dad believed the arts were integral to a good education. He took us to museums, concerts, the Ice Follies. He bought art books and records. We kids sat in the front row at the Community Concerts so we'd be first in line to get our programs autographed. One of our favorite pastimes was dressing up and playing opera. 

Dad was absolutely distraught the time William Warfield came to Gettysburg and couldn't find a local restaurant or hotel where blacks could eat or sleep. Not a sportsman, Dad still cheered for Jackie Robinson and the Dodgers. When we adopted our bi-racial boys, Dad was our greatest supporter. He hated racism and sexism. We went on rambling vacations.

Spring included wild flower and birding hikes. He taught us to garden. He grew roses. After a particularly virulent invasion of bind weed, he dug up the entire garden and sifted out the tiny bits of roots rather than use herbicides. He insisted we learn the value of money. He planted a half acre of strawberries, raspberries and blackberries, then turned their care over to us girls. For years I thought red raspberries tasted like green worms. He enjoyed cooking, specializing in salads, pickles and relishes.

Few understood my midlife desire to go to seminary. Dad did. He helped me study. He babysat when needed. He critiqued my papers. When our denomination refused to ordain me because I was female he led the congregation in finding another path to ordination. At his memorial service, a friend of Dad's remarked, “Joyce, you were the son your father never had.”

I wish all kids benefited from a dad like mine. But, as long as our social policies work against good schools and poorer families are penalized for trying to get ahead many kids won't be so lucky. Why can we can give tax breaks and subsidies to the Super Wal-Marts and the 1% but can't design a system that rewards the poor for working, saving and improving their lives simply by gradually decreasing their benefits rather than cutting them off at artificial lows. Financial security certainly helped my dad give us a great childhood!

Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church. You can follow her blog at FairfieldMennonite Church.org






I am a depression , WWII brat. I remember those hard times with some fondness. Thrift and doing without was just the way it was. Hobos rode the trains to Orrtanna and Mother fed whomever came. I talked with the men as they ate. They weren't scary, just broken and sad. Everything was rationed; gas, meat, flour, sugar, milk, shoes. “Oleo” came in plastic bags with a little color bubble in the middle. We wore hand-me-downs, bought war bonds, gathered milkweed silk to make parachutes, recycled metal including gum wrappers, rolled old sheets into bandages, grew victory gardens, canned and froze anything edible. My dad got Mother a freezer and when Earl and I married years later we used that freezer for another 43 years! Resources then were just too precious to make junk! Patriotism meant everyone did their part. If wars are worth fighting then they are worth asking citizens to support them with higher taxes and a new series of war bonds.

My grandfather owned the Orrtanna Canning Company, so as the boss's brats we raided the ice cream freezers in the cafeteria, played in empty trucks, took turns falling into the cherry tanks! German POW's worked at the plant, since most men were in the armed services. We discovered POW's were people just like us. For years we sent food and clothing packages to their families and other post war victims. In 1959 Earl and I went to Europe to participate in post war efforts. We distributed food and clothing, helped build houses for refugees.

Every summer the community women canned fruit and vegetables at the Orrtanna Methodist Church. Hundreds of jars for the county home and needy! We kids peeled peaches and tomatoes, snapped beans, husked corn. Orrtanna's annual Halloween party was amazing. One guy, stuffed in a burlap bag and and dumped in the corner won first prize as a sack of potatoes. Winters we shoveled snow, built snowmen, skated on the cold storage pond, sledded down the schoolhouse hill.

Summers we kids picked cherries. We rode to the orchards in an old model T school bus that wouldn't start without a good cussing. Afternoons we rode our bikes to El Vista Orchards for a refreshing swim in their pool. August's “dog days” included feared polio outbreaks. 

If you had a phone, you had a party line. When mother called anyone her first words were “Aunt Verna, hang up!” Orrtanna had a post office and a general store. King's Store carried food, sewing supplies, sheets and towels, shovels, seeds, car parts, and local gossip. Dried beef was really cheap. We ate lots of dried beef. 

Orrtanna's school had only 2 rooms: the little side and the big side. We bought our own pencils and paper and walked home for lunch. Once we mastered our grade level material, Miss Miller and Miss Walters assigned research projects, book reports, had us tutor kids who weren't as far along. The school had pot bellied stoves and a stinky outhouse. We used old catalogs for toilet paper. When the Orrtanna Canning Company burned to the ground we kids stood by the school windows and watched.

Adams County may be more conservative than I'd prefer but it was a great place to grow up in. It still is!

Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church You can follow her blog at Fairfield MennoniteChurch.org.










Get over yourself


I went to a mindfulness retreat the other week. I do silence fairly well, though focusing on my breath for 40 minutes was a bit much. I loved the outdoor walks being mindful of the newly awakened signs of spring. At lunch we were to chew each bite at least 30 times before swallowing, savoring the flavor and texture of our food. Not easy since my sandwich was dry and tasteless.

I loved the mindful exercises. Moving slowly and deliberately touched something deep inside me. In the afternoon we were instructed to sit or lie quietly while our leader led us in guided imagery. I was restless and lay down with some very “mindful” resistance in my head. As my mind wandered off I suddenly heard this voice inside my head say “For goodness sake, Joyce, get over yourself!” Laughing quietly at myself I relaxed and fell asleep, that is until my friend poked me. “You're snoring!”

At the conclusion of the day we gathered in a large circle “to share.” I confessed I'd come more out of support for my friend than for myself. My excuse for lack of interest was that I've worked at this “mindfulness” thing for years. I really try to “be present to the moment” as much as possible rather than worrying about a future that hasn't arrived or stewing over a past I can't change. Consequently, being reminded that I take myself too seriously and needed “to get over myself” was pretty significant. That made the day really meaningful.

I may have resented chewing that dry sandwich 30 times per bite but today I eat more slowly and chew more deliberately. Which is good. And, I've done a lot of thinking about the experience and realize how important my own definition of mindfulness is to me. For me, Mindfulness is shaped by gratitude.

Gratitude. I am grateful I can feel the sun and rain, soft and strong breezes. I am grateful I can see and enjoy green grass and blooming flowers. I am grateful I am still able to breath, walk, eat, see, laugh, talk, read, and enjoy just being alive. I am grateful for friends. I am grateful that little things make my every day life beautiful and precious. In fact, I can't remember when I've had a really really bad day. Bad things happen like getting a flat tire, the pressure cooker blowing beets on the ceiling, the pipes freezing and the kitchen flooding and the ceiling coming down, a beloved family member dying. But even then the power kept working, folks helped out, the sun rose and set. In fact. painful experiences simply put the wonder of every day life in perspective. But I do ache for the Syrian refugees or others in desperate situations who aren't as fortunate as I.

Retreats are nice, but the real challenge comes in being mindfully grateful for my humdrum days. Being open in mind, body and spirit. Being willing to adapt, change, respond. Letting go of the need to be right, safe, secure, in control. Embracing new ideas and ways of being. Reaching out to the God within and the God without. Being gratefully and intentionally aware of just how blessed I truly am.



Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church. You can follow her blog at www/FairfieldMennoniteChurch.org


Neither prejudice or fear


January 1967. While admiring the babies through the nursery window at Gettysburg Hospital I noticed a dusky brown infant whom gossip had was the product of local “white trash” and a migrant. When someone behind me said, “God love him, who'd want him” I heard myself say, “We would.” That baby was placed with us in foster care and two years later we formally adopted him, then adopted a second bi-racial child.

Our extended families were always supportive, though my husband's mother later confessed she'd had mixed feelings until watching a TV news clip of the Selma march and police brutality, she gasped, “that could be my grandson their hurting!”

Have things really changed? Almost weekly we hear of another unarmed black being gunned down by white police, of racial profiling. Blacks and Hispanics are incarcerated at a much higher rate than whites. Their sentences are longer. Why are we so afraid of each other? Why do we teach our children to hate based on skin color? Why are we so threatened by our religious or social differences? Aren't we all God's children? Our boys bleed red just like our girls. Their kisses are just as sweet. 

True, we've made progress since the 60's. For instance, inter-racial families are fairly common these days. In 1969 ours was the first inter-racial adoption in Adams County. We quickly discovered others depended on us to set the tone so they'd know how to react to us. That included some funny incidents. One day a drunk (white) staggered up to me in Gettysburg and snorted, “Got yourself a black one this time, didn't you?” I was still laughing when we got home!

While we taught our kids that skin color was just like eye or hair coloring, they still experienced the ugly face of prejudice. More than once our girls got in trouble at school for hitting someone who'd called their little brothers the “N” word or the boys came home crying. One night we watched the movie “Old Yeller.” In a scene where the father is roughed up by a gang of whites, our youngest, about 6 at the time, threw himself at me sobbing, “why does everyone hate me?” What could I say? What can any parent of a black or brown child say? “Just because your skin is darker?”

After years of searching, our youngest finally found his birth mom. On the internet, of course. Last Thanksgiving we met her. We marveled at the ways our lives had intersected because she'd loved her child enough to give him up for adoption. We thanked her for giving us the most precious gift possible: her beloved child. She thanked us for giving her “a life” as she took advantage of not being a teen mother and put herself through college. Today she is a successful dress designer for celebrities in Vegas.

Our nation was founded on the principle that all are created equal. Too many of us are still limited by prejudice and fear. It is crucial we come together to ensure that neither race, gender, sexual orientation, wealth, nor religion define who is allowed to succeed and who to fail. As Martin Luther King said, what matters is not the color of ones skin but the character of ones soul.

Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church. You can follow her at www:FairfieldMennoniteChurch.org.

Thursday, April 16, 2015

For better or worse


The rabbi's wife challenged her husband's glowing “60 years of wedded bliss” with “ you've got to be kidding. 30 years at the most! 10 minutes here, 20 minutes there, a day here, a week there. That comes to about 30 years of wedded bliss.”

Marriage is less about romance than commitment. In fact, staying in love with our partner may be the hardest thing one can do. Working with another to create a relatively functional, relatively happy family unit is very demanding!

When hubby and I walked down the aisle we didn't anticipate the broken hearts and broken dreams that shaped our years together or that 50 of our 56 years would be shaped by chronic illness. That a significant part of our story would be shaped by teen addictions. That two of our four would drop out of high school, one be incarcerated. That my father's untimely death necessitated caring for my mother. 

We didn't anticipate the ways we'd both change. I am not the same compliant girl he married. He is not the same laughing romantic I dated. We've had to re-choose each other many times over. There have been times when I've thought, “this is not what I signed up for,” But the reality is, this is exactly what I signed up for. Our marriage vows stated, “for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.” Fortunately our shared faith, values, and goals helped us survive the challenges life dealt us, even making us softer, gentler, wiser, more accepting individuals.

Somehow we muddled through crisis after crisis, thanks to family support, marriage counseling, 12 step programs, individual determination, a strong church family. When I complained to a favorite college professor that I felt stifled and my brain was dying he suggested I go to seminary. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start thinking about what it's like for your family to feel responsible for your unhappiness. The only person you can change is yourself, so do what it takes to make yourself a better wife and mother and go back to school.” What good advice!

Arranged marriages involve fewer expectations of romance or hot sex since they are basically business arrangements. We feed our young the rosy promise that love and sexual compatibility will solve every problem and romantic passion will never go away. Thus few of us are prepared to get gobsmacked with the challenges of marriage, work, and family. Those of us who realize our spouse and children are not responsible for our happiness have a fighting chance to succeed. It takes friends, challenging jobs, meaningful hobbies, support groups, community involvement, and a strong faith to diffuse the demands of raising a family. Marriage, after all, is all about sharing your life with someone you mostly recognize, sometimes understand and occasionally like.

Looking back I am grateful for every challenge that came our way. We are both better persons for walking a different path than the one we anticipated that hot summer day we said “for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, till death do us part.“

Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church. You can follow her blog at www.Fairfield Mennonite Church.org

The high cost of prisons


With primary elections this spring an important question is: “How do you want your money spent, Adams County?”

Here are some numbers to consider. $9,653,089 to run the prison. $566,184 for central processing. $2,455,152 for Probation. $1,102,122 to fund the court. $798,721 the district attorney. $566,184 for the public defender. $818,040 for the sheriff. $148,612 for the law library. Together these “services” come to over 38% of the county's budget! Does Adams County really that dangerous?

Just as our local prison eats up over a 4th of our county budget, the states corrections budget is its largest growth item. More arrests, higher fines, and longer sentences have created a huge marginalized population that's a horrendous drain on society. Since 1980, Pennsylvania's corrections budget grew 1000%, going from $94 million to $2 billion. Pennsylvania's prison population grew 600%, going from 8,000 to over 54,000 and 9 state prisons to 28! Our so called war on crime has not reduced crime; it has simply created a prison industrial system that's turned the US in the world's incarceration nation.

Since racism did not die with the Civil Rights Movement those in power deliberately chose to use the justice system to marginalize blacks. Today we don't lynch black men. We incarcerate them. Over 68% of all black men in the US are enslaved by our “justice system.” That's more than were slaves in 1850! Over 78 million US citizens today can't vote, find decent jobs, housing, or receive benefits because they have been incarcerated or arrested!

What can we do locally? Become better informed. Attend the Prison Board meetings the 2nd Tuesday of the month. Attend Prison Society meetings the 3rd Wed of the month. Encourage the Criminal Justice Advisory Board to focus on grants for rehabilitation. Many inmates need GEDs or high school diplomas, others long term intensive drug and mental health services, with quality follow up once released. Warden Clark dreams of turning part of ACACC into an accredited long term treatment facility for those arrested for drug and alcohol related crimes. Support him! 

Encourage our judges and probation department to experiment with creative sentencing. Challenge the DA to be more lenient when possible. Incarcerating non-violent criminals should be the last resort, not the first. Treat everyone equally, black, white, rich, poor. If someone violates probation, incarcerate them on weekends instead of forcing them to serve the rest of their sentence in state prisons, forcing them to lose their jobs and impoverish their families. Create re-entry housing and jobs training programs for those coming our of prison so they can get back on their feet.

We have turned our justice system into a commodity, for sale to the highest bidder. Justice is determined by ones ability to pay. Our courts and prisons charge inmates exorbitant fees for basic services such as medical, telephone, commissary. Excessive fines for those who can least afford them results in a system whereby those already down and out are perpetually in debt to the “justice system” because each failure results in more fines.

Yes, changing our system and establishing rehabilitative programs will cost money, but far less in the long run than our broken system which doesn't work.



Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church and co-chair of the local chapter PA Prison Society.




Kisses Just as Sweet


January 1967. While admiring the babies through the nursery window at Gettysburg Hospital I noticed a dusky brown infant whom gossip had was the product of local “white trash” and a migrant. When someone behind me said, “God love him, who'd want him” I heard myself say, “We would.” That baby was placed with us in foster care and two years later we formally adopted him, then adopted a second bi-racial child.

Our extended families were always supportive, though my husband's mother later confessed she'd had mixed feelings until watching a TV news clip of the Selma march and police brutality, she gasped, “that could be my grandson their hurting!”

Have things really changed? Almost weekly we hear of another unarmed black being gunned down by white police, of racial profiling. Blacks and Hispanics are incarcerated at a much higher rate than whites. Their sentences are longer. Why are we so afraid of each other? Why do we teach our children to hate based on skin color? Why are we so threatened by our religious or social differences? Aren't we all God's children? Our boys bleed red just like our girls. Their kisses are just as sweet. 

True, we've made progress since the 60's. For instance, inter-racial families are fairly common these days. In 1969 ours was the first inter-racial adoption in Adams County. We quickly discovered others depended on us to set the tone so they'd know how to react to us. That included some funny incidents. One day a drunk (white) staggered up to me in Gettysburg and snorted, “Got yourself a black one this time, didn't you?” I was still laughing when we got home!

While we taught our kids that skin color was just like eye or hair coloring, they still experienced the ugly face of prejudice. More than once our girls got in trouble at school for hitting someone who'd called their little brothers the “N” word or the boys came home crying. One night we watched the movie “Old Yeller.” In a scene where the father is roughed up by a gang of whites, our youngest, about 6 at the time, threw himself at me sobbing, “why does everyone hate me?” What could I say? What can any parent of a black or brown child say? “Just because your skin is darker?”

After years of searching, our youngest finally found his birth mom. On the internet, of course. Last Thanksgiving we met her. We marveled at the ways our lives had intersected because she'd loved her child enough to give him up for adoption. We thanked her for giving us the most precious gift possible: her beloved child. She thanked us for giving her “a life” as she took advantage of not being a teen mother and put herself through college. Today she is a successful dress designer for celebrities in Vegas.

Our nation was founded on the principle that all are created equal. Too many of us are still limited by prejudice and fear. It is crucial we come together to ensure that neither race, gender, sexual orientation, wealth, nor religion define who is allowed to succeed and who to fail. As Martin Luther King said, what matters is not the color of ones skin but the character of ones soul.





Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church. You can follow her at www:FairfieldMennoniteChurch.org.

Monday, March 16, 2015

If War is not the answer


There is a sign in front of the Mennonite Church in Fairfield which reads “War is not the Answer.” Recently someone slipped a letter in the front door asking, “if war is not the answer, what is? And don't say prayer.” After a lot of thought and yes, prayer, here is my answer. To your question, “If war is not the answer, what is?” Here are a few thoughts to start a discussion. 

There are no easy answers or short term solutions to the problem of war. Any solution involves addressing the the culture of violence and retribution that is so prevalent around the world. That will take time. A long time.

As a follower of Jesus I am convinced that the place to start finding different solutions to conflict  is within the Christian Church because Jesus, whom we call Lord, taught the way of non-violent resistance. Rather than fight Rome he chose to die on the cross. He taught us to “love one another, even love our enemies, and to do good to those who despite-fully use us.” For the first 300 years the early church practiced non-violent resistance to aggression and tyranny. Thousands chose to die rather than fight back. Then came Constantine, the Roman emperor who made Christianity legal, baptized his troops and marched to war in the name of Christ. Augustine followed with his doctrine of “just war” and it has been downhill ever since, Salvation has been delegated to an after life, even though Jesus' teachings were all about how we should live in this life. Granted, the Jesus way is a tough way to run a nation.

Given the reality of our violent world, war is viewed as the quickest and easiest response to difficult national and international problems. Diplomacy and negotiation not only takes time but require everyone to enter into serious give and take given that few of us want to admit that we are part of the problem. Diplomacy is challenging. Even so, it's still true that the real goal of war is to force the defeated party to the negotiating table, so why not start there and avoid all the death and devastation? Then there is the additional problem that war creates new problems that often end up being worse than what came before. We learned this in Iraq.   Killing off Saddam Hussein simply opened Pandora's box unleashing a plethora of new problems and religious rivalries that have actually escalated the vicious cycle of killing.

In the short term, war often seems a realistic response, especially if done in conjunction with a long range commitment to confronting the multiple challenges underlying rivalries and unrest, such as income and opportunity inequality, religious intolerance, violent struggles for power, and genocide.

If war is not to be the answer, what is? Justice. Peace is not the opposite of war, justice is. Therefore if we want to change the culture of violence within the United States and the world we must start with our own justice issues so we can truly become “ a more perfect union.” We can rationalize that we are better than most other countries but that is not an excuse for our current system of racist, elitist, systemic injustice.  Justice for all, not just the rich and white race. The only way we can authentically demand the rest of the world to stop human rights abuses and move toward more democratic forms of government is by addressing the unmet needs and unjust practices within our own country.  Doing this would give our words and actions credibility! By modeling peace through justice we'd address the endemic racism that shapes our so called justice system, pass realistic comprehensive immigration reform, stop the legalizing corruption the comes from such decisions as Citizens United, unjust voter ID laws that disenfranchise millions, and address the income inequality that has reduced too many to virtual slavery. If war is not the answer, what is? Justice. To quote Scripture: “do justice, love mercy and walk humbly.”
 
Follow the money,” we often say. Well, 59% of our national resources go into the  military and -related programs and financing the military debt. Most of that is not included in the budget so the real costs of war are hidden. But hiding the cost of war in unfunded deficits is not only bad policy, it weakens our economy and nation, making us more afraid. This is why Congress needs to pass a war tax so we, the people, know where our money is really going, why there is not money for health care, roads, schools, etc.

Re-introducing the draft is another important answer to “if now war, what?” Why? Because all of us, rich and poor, educated and uneducated, young and old need to share in the consequences of our national and political decisions. Too many wars are started by older white men who never served in the military and have romantic notions of what war is. 

If every young person served a minimum of 2 years in some form of national service, we could address many of the ”justice” issues listed above,  develop greater tolerance and understanding for the plight for others and open our eyes to other ways of seeing, doing and being. This could create a new patriotism that is strong and vibrant.

It is the nature of young people to long for meaning and purpose. They are idealistic and critical of “the establishment.” Let's give them real and viable ways to create positive change. For those who wouldn't opt for military service, they could serve in an expanded Peace Corps, Ameri-Corps, etc. They could become fire fighters, do community development, work with inner city gangs, do needed conservation work, housing rehab programs, disaster relief, legal services, prison rehabilitation, health care in under served areas, work in nursing homes, etc. 

If we are to prevent future wars we must harness the dreams of our young who aren't afraid of change. By providing our young people with meaningful opportunities to address social issues such as racism, religious intolerance, immigration, and economic inequality far fewer youth will be attracted to radical groups such as ISSIS. We could create an alternative culture to that of war and violence. Our nation could become truly exceptional by being less threatening to others and model a better way for the rest of the world.

Several years ago some “dreamers” started an organization called Christian Peacemakers. Christian Peacemakers are trained in methods of non-violent resistance and conflict resolution. They go into difficult areas such as the Gaza Strip, the West Bank, Iraq, Central America, Pakistan, Mexico, Columbia. They serve as witnesses to human right abuses, land grabbing, gang violence, drug lord abuses, war crimes, and stand with the persecuted. Christian Peacemakers understand that until we who call ourselves Christian are as willing to die for peace and justice as soldiers are to die in war, wars will prevail.

Non-violence works. Non-violence shaped our own Civil Rights movement. Non-violence conquered apartheid in South Africa. Ghandi's non-violent movement brought the British empire in India to its knees.

There is another way. But, peace-making, like warfare, demands that we who care, especially those of us who call ourselves followers of Christ must be willing to die when necessary that others might live. Peace (justice) will take just as much time, money, commitment, and long term political will as our current climate of perpetual war, but the end results could be very different. Jesus said “love your enemies. Forgive those who persecute and abuse use you.” His is not an easy solution but in the end Christ-like non-violence is no more difficult or painful than that demanded by war. And the outcomes would be so much better!

As the song says, “let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.”





Thursday, March 5, 2015

Love your neighbor, we need each other


Fear and polarization are tearing our nation apart, preventing us from solving the very real problems facing us, whether in families, churches, communities, the world. The rare times we listen to others we do so to rebut rather than understand. But then true listening means being open to understanding and change rather than “being right.” Probably the greatest barrier to resolving the conflicts that devastate so many of us is the self centered belief that we have the divine right to impose our way of life, thought, religion, government on others.

Reading an old Tony Hillerman book about the Navajo culture I was reminded the difference between “white” and “Indian” cultures is: “white” culture is based on individualism while “Indian” culture is communal with complicated systems of inter-dependencies and shared property. Instead of making values judgments as to whether one is better or worse, it behooves us to we acknowledge our differences and respect other ways of doing and being. Many marriages break up because the two “partners” come from very different family systems and instead of seeking a new or middle ground they try to change each other.

We have so much going for us as a nation that it's sad we are becoming a people of “me” rather than “we.” Surely we can find that balance between “my” needs and wants and “your” needs and wants. Surely we can find ways to respect our differences while protecting the rights of everyone. For instance, why do we have to choose between no guns or anything goes? Surely there is a middle ground where I can feel safe walking down a city street or sending my grandchildren to school without worrying about some angry gun owner venting his rage on “innocents.” We can, if we choose, respectfully work together by acknowledging our differences without dividing ourselves into them against us. In the end, there is no them or us. There is only ”us” so we'd do well to remember that Jesus said, “ a house divided against itself cannot stand.”

Much as we worship at the altar of individualism and individual rights, we cannot exist for long apart from community. We need each other. Farmers raise our food. Stores provide goods. Laborers create the products we buy, harvest our food. Wholesalers, managers, sales clerks, teachers, truckers, inventors, technicians, secretaries, government employees, restaurant workers all provide needed services. These are only a few examples of our inter-related, inter-dependent lives. There is no such thing as a self made man. Even the Warren Buffets need the millions of little people “slaving” away at low paying jobs to accumulate their wealth and power.

Whether in Congress, the Chamber of Commerce, labor unions, local governments, churches or families, we'd do well to focus on “we the people” instead of “me the individual.” Ultimately what is best for you will be best for me, because I can't exist without you. We'd do well to remember that when we are engaged in a family conflict or international politics.



Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.




Perception is reality


Perception is reality. Just by putting a cheap wine in an expensive bottle we can fool ourselves into thinking its a fine wine. A bad dining experience colors how we perceive all restaurants in that chain. Democrats and Republicans heard very different things in the President's state of the union speech. Perception is reality.

Pascal, the French philosopher, suggested that since we have a choice between believing in God or not believing in God, it's better to believe. If we believe in God, heaven, and hell and we're wrong, we've lost nothing. We just die. But if we reject God and some form of immortality truly exists, things could get really interesting. To further complicate the matter, our perception of heaven and hell colors how we see today.

While I really want there to be something on the other side, the heavy judgmental “I'm in and you're out” stuff many preach gives me the willies. What is there about“judge not that you be not judged” we don't understand? In The Shack there is this really provocative scene in which Sophia (Wisdom) asks Mac to choose which 2 or his 5 children should go to heaven, which three to hell. Mac insists he can't make such a terrible choice because he loves all of his children. To which Sophia replies something to the effect “but that's exactly what you folks demand of God, even though God also loves all of his children.” Which reminds me of the old doggerel “it hardly behooves the best of us to criticize the worse of us...”

Since we can't know for sure what lies on the other side, I'm choosing a third option. I'm choosing to live each day as if this is the only life I will ever live. Knowing that I can't undo the past or control the future, I am choosing to gratefully make the most of each day, embracing each moment, each experience as a gift. I'm choosing to see the beauty that is always around me, doing today what I might otherwise put off for tomorrow, deliberately finding good in others or situations. I am choosing opportunities to “pay it forward” confident that by being positive, thoughtful, compassionate, and forgiving I can make a difference. By choosing to see this world as the only heaven or hell l will ever experience, I am motivated to seek heaven in today.

With bad news bombarding us twenty four seven, it's too easy to ignore the miracles and wonders that shape our days. There is so much goodness, so many ways others help us, even in the worst of times that we simply take for granted. For instance, we who live in Adams County tend to ignore the breathtaking scenery that surrounds us. Even though I am 78 with most of my life behind me, my get up and go getting up and going, wrinkles and sagging body parts defining my appearance, I am choosing to become “like a little child” as Jesus suggested. I am choosing to reawaken that childlike wonder in a blade of grass, a bird song, sun glittering on the snow, the taste and feel of ice cream, the sweetness of music, a grandchild's laughter. My time may be running out, but I'm choosing to live each day with verve and joy gratefully relishing each moment instead of hoping for something better the next time around. You see, perception is reality.

Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.












For better or worse


The rabbi's wife challenged her husband's glowing “60 years of wedded bliss” with “ you've got to be kidding. 30 years at the most! 10 minutes here, 20 minutes there, a day here, a week there. That comes to about 30 years of wedded bliss.”

Marriage is less about romance than commitment. In fact, staying in love with our partner may be the hardest thing one can do. Working with another to create a relatively functional, relatively happy family unit is very demanding!

When hubby and I walked down the aisle we didn't anticipate the broken hearts and broken dreams that shaped our years together or that 50 of our 56 years would be shaped by chronic illness. That a significant part of our story would be shaped by teen addictions. That two of our four would drop out of high school, one be incarcerated. That my father's untimely death necessitated caring for my mother. 

We didn't anticipate the ways we'd both change. I am not the same compliant girl he married. He is not the same laughing romantic I dated. We've had to re-choose each other many times over. There have been times when I've thought, “this is not what I signed up for,” But the reality is, this is exactly what I signed up for. Our marriage vows stated, “for better for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.” Fortunately our shared faith, values, and goals helped us survive the challenges life dealt us, even making us softer, gentler, wiser, more accepting individuals.

Somehow we muddled through crisis after crisis, thanks to family support, marriage counseling, 12 step programs, individual determination, a strong church family. When I complained to a favorite college professor that I felt stifled and my brain was dying he suggested I go to seminary. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start thinking about what it's like for your family to feel responsible for your unhappiness. The only person you can change is yourself, so do what it takes to make yourself a better wife and mother and go back to school.” What good advice!

Arranged marriages involve fewer expectations of romance or hot sex since they are basically business arrangements. We feed our young the rosy promise that love and sexual compatibility will solve every problem and romantic passion will never go away. Thus few of us are prepared to get gobsmacked with the challenges of marriage, work, and family. Those of us who realize our spouse and children are not responsible for our happiness have a fighting chance to succeed. It takes friends, challenging jobs, meaningful hobbies, support groups, community involvement, and a strong faith to diffuse the demands of raising a family. Marriage, after all, is all about sharing your life with someone you mostly recognize, sometimes understand and occasionally like.

Looking back I am grateful for every challenge that came our way. We are both better persons for walking a different path than the one we anticipated that hot summer day we said “for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, till death do us part.“
 
Joyce Shutt is pastor emeritus of the Fairfield Mennonite Church.