Meeting the Mennonites Among the Corn-Covered Hills

This morning, I went out of my way to attend a Mennonite Church in Lewisburg, Pa., as I didn’t want to leave the state without doing so. I went to Buffalo Mennonite Church, which is actually a while from town, nestled between cornfields, with nothing by farmland for miles.

Mennonites are an Anabaptist church, famous for their beliefs in nonviolence, simplicity, and the separation of church and state. They began in the 1500s in German and Dutch-speaking parts of Europe, and were highly persecuted by the Catholic Church, which was synonymous with the state at the time.

William Penn and the Quakers brought the Mennonites to America, which is why so many of them can be found in Pennsylvania. (They, with the Amish, are what originally constituted “Pennsylvania Dutch”) But Mennonites spread farther than Quakers did in the early nation, and large pockets can also be found into the Midwest.

For a church in the middle of cornfields, the service was quite well attended with roughly 80 congregants. You could easily see the Mennonite roots, as many of the older women still wore the traditional white bonnets and simple, sky-blue dresses. Since Mennonites espouse simplicity as a way of life, the church reflected this in its construction, with large, airy spaces, but sparingly adorned. Here are pictures of the outside and the inside of the church:

The service was rather straightforward, with an abundance of hymnals and a sermon from the pastor about Gideon from the Old Testament Book of Judges. Gideon was an unremarkable man when God called him to service, and tested God to make sure that he was really meant for the call.

One night, he put wool out in the field, asking God to make the wool wet with dew in the morning, but the ground dry if he was meant for service. That came to pass. But still doubting, he put the wool out again, asking God to make the ground wet and the wool dry. That, too, came to pass. When Gideon accepted his calling, God used him to drive the Midianites, a warring tribe, from the land of Israel.

The pastor used this story to encourage the congregation to be attentive to God’s will, and ready to act when need be, despite personal desires and distractions. I thought this was a good representative sermon for a Mennonite church, as Mennonites are generally more involved in missionary activities and outreach than other Anabaptist faiths. For instance, they often work to plant churches around the country and send missionaries across the world, often on humanitarian missions, such as AIDS outreach in Africa and agricultural development in Asia. The Mennonites were also some of the first religious people to send aid after Hurricane Katrina, often before the Red Cross or FEMA.

There was a poem in today’s program which spoke to me, but also jolted me in its stark, urgent tone. It’s call “Reach the Children” by Weston B. Taylor, and here are some excerpts:

“Have you ever thought of reaching those
Whom you pass by each day?
Have you ever spoken some kind word to them
Of Christ, the Living Way? […]

There is Jackson selling papers,
Or Stephie down the street;
They are both potential trophies
To lay at Jesus’ feet

When others see the jod they have,
And see their witness true,
They won’t be satisfied until
They know their savior, too.

So won’t you catch the vision
Of the children lost in sin?
The fields are white for reaping;
Won’t you get the harvest in? […]”

After the service, I was bombarded with well-wishers, wondering about my journey. I assume they don’t get many visitors on bicycle in their hilly neck of the woods. Unlike many other churches I’ve been to, people didn’t leave immediately after the service, but stayed to chat for a long time, and I received many invitations to join them for lunch.

I decided to join the youth group for a barbecue at a farm close-by (I believe it was the Pratt family farm, but I neglected to write down the name, and I meet so many people, that if I don’t write names down, I forget).

There were about eight boys and two girls at the barbecue, as many of the youth were on vacation at the beach. I had a good time at the barbecue, and stuffed my face with home-cooked burgers, baked beans, corn, blondies, and other goodies. (I could barely bike afterwards, I was so full). Here’s a picture of some of the youth at the barbecue:

The man laughing is Joel Peachey, who drove me from the church to the barbecue and back. Of all the things in Lewisburg, he’s probably what I’ll remember best. At 27, he’s been a truck driver for many years, which I always wanted to do when I was a kid. We discussed the lure of the open road, and the way highways canche from state to state.

For instance, Pennsylvania seems to be the road kill capital of the nation. Every mile, I pass at least one dead skunk, possum, or raccoon, smelly and rotting. It’s gross, sad, and something I haven’t seen in other states. “It’s good for the bears,” Joel quipped, “but bad for the other animals, I guess.”

I liked Joel a lot. He was very good-natured, calm, and enjoyed the good things in life, like fishing, mountain biking, and other outdoorsy activities. Unfortunately, one of his friends just discovered girls, so he doesn’t have a partner to enjoy these activities with as much.

He also seems to be a leader among the youth in his congregation, as they revolved around what he said and made him the butt of their pranks. As an example, when we left the church, the young boys had removed the hubcaps and opened the hood on his beat-up car. Laughing, he just told them to do a better job next time, at least removing some wires to the spark plugs if they really wanted to pull a good prank.