Readers Write: January 2025



Effects of dismissal linger for decades

In 1980, I returned to Canada from my mission assignment, happy to be home after four very difficult years. I looked forward to telling the mission staff about my experience, but the very people I thought would be the most supportive did not listen or ask about my time in Congo.

I was told I was terminated, without discussion or explanation. I was devastated and sought professional help.

Eighteen years later, my final paper at Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary was titled “A Theology of Dismissal,” something which, of course, we don’t have. When word got out that I was writing on this subject I had students at my door—pastors, mission workers, and Mennonite Central Committee workers—telling me their stories.

The experience of my termination still haunts me. I try not to think of it too often because emotions surge to the top. I thought it might be good to let people know that these inexplicable dismissals have long-term effects.

Now, my heart aches for the young people who experience the same thing I did.

Surely our Mennonite scholars can come up with a theology of dismissal. It is incredibly sad that there still is a lack of justice and peace.

– Anita Janzen, Leamington, Ontario


Anguish and love amid division

Those who would wish to sit down with the people from the opposite end of the political spectrum, whether in a Christian or a secular context, always hope for a rational and reasonable discussion. That does happen sometimes, but more often not.

We often fail to see that discussion is not really about facts or rational arguments but about emotion.

I must confess, I’ve studiously avoided these kinds of discussions for many years, even while feeling vaguely guilty that I, as a kind of expert in conflict resolution, should be more engaged.

My last experience was with the husband of a beloved cousin of mine, who, during a weekend at a family cottage, went through the tropes so prominent today: climate change denial, blaming Indigenous people for their problems, alarmism over crime rates, anti-gay, anti-abortion, and the list goes on. Although I tried to interject in a quiet, reasonable way, he simply repeated the same lines, only more loudly and with asides about what’s wrong with people who believe what I do.

All of us have felt anguish at one point at the pace of social change and the loss of moral absolutes or other important matters. I believe we still share some absolutes: faith in a God who loves us all unconditionally and the belief that each of us has a duty to share God’s love, while fully living the life God has given us, as best we can.

I’d like to say my cousin’s husband and I eventually reached a reasonable and rational accommodation, but that wasn’t the case. Instead, when my cousin developed a cruel and debilitating chronic illness, he took care of her with an extraordinary level of love and devotion that, at least in part, allayed my own anguish. I had to love him for that, even though we never reached any kind of accord as far as politics and the rest were concerned. Perhaps the answer lies in there somewhere, in the capacity to love we all share.

– Paul Redekop, Winnipeg (First Mennonite Church)



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