Community

I believe in community. Mennonites do community pretty well because it’s at the center of our faith. We believe that the church, in all its foibles, is how the Kingdom of God is to be introduced and lived on this earth, and we don’t limit “church” to the worship services that bring the people of God together. That is just the beginning of the bonds that carry through the week and into every aspect of our lives.

So going to a new church, as Vic and I started to do early this year, is a pretty big deal, like being adopted into a whole new family. I have been reminded, during this process, just how important community is. And like most things that are close to my heart, it is also prime territory for frustrations and annoyances.

Most of my frustrations have to do with how busy people are. Through the church we signed on to a CSA, run by an Amish farmer who happens to live 60 miles away from us as well as from the church building, which, in turn, is some 20 miles from us. Produce was to be picked up by someone every Friday at the farm and delivered to the church, where some 20 members would, in turn, pick up their personal shares.

Thinking I would do my part for community—and form ties with others who share our hunger for beautiful, organic food and for justice for small farmers—I volunteered to help with the farm pickups. But Vic and I ended up doing nearly all the pickups until well into the season. And we seldom see our fellow members because they come to the church to get their produce at different times and sometimes they don’t come at all. There have been complaints about the messy boxes left in the church foyer and other matters. There have been lapses in communication. In short, much of the messiness of community and few of the rewards.

This is not usually the case with community stuff, in which the annoyances are more in the nature of a Shakespearean comedy of errors. Here is today’s example.

Carolyn, a wonderful new friend from this church, called last week wondering if Vic could do a favor for one of her friends who incidentally came from the same home territory as both Vic and Carolyn, eastern Pennsylvania. This friend, who now lives in Michiana, has a niece who lives in Evanston, IL, a suburb of Chicago. The niece has a piece of furniture that needs to be delivered to the aunt back here in this general vicinity. Carolyn knew Vic goes to Chicago for work a few days each week. Could he possibly pick up this antique bench on one of his runs to the city?

Although Evanston is more than an hour away from where Vic works, it turned out that he had been thinking about attending a lecture at Northwestern U., where he got his PhD, this very week. Today. Northwestern is in Evanston. And so he agreed to drive the SUV instead of the economy car into the city this week (which meant I had to arrange for someone else to do the CSA pickup), spend an extra day, attend the lecture, and pick up the bench. Carolyn gave him the address and phone number of her friend’s niece in Evanston.

As I write this, Vic has been trying for two days to contact the niece, to no avail. More phone calls to Carolyn (via her husband) put him in touch, this morning, with the aunt, Mary Jane. They had a nice chat, enumerating all their connections. Mary Jane knew Vic’s sister, yada yada. (It’s called the Mennonite Game). Mary Jane will keep trying to contact her niece. The lecture is this afternoon and that is when the handover was supposed to take place.

But if the phone connection doesn’t work, the bench is in the niece’s garage. The door is probably unlocked. Mary Jane says, feel free to carry it off.

Community. If only it didn't involve so much driving and phoning. If only we actually lived in our community!