More Response to Pure: Stereotyping Mennonites by the Most Obvious Visual Distinctions

Dan Dyck directs communications for Mennonite Church Canada, one of two of the largest Mennonite denominations in Canada. I asked him a few questions about his response to Pure, out of his experience as a communicator and from his position with that church body.

What is your experience with what the public and the media know about Mennonites?

Both tend to conflate the culture and the faith. Both tend to stereotype Mennonites by the most obvious visual distinctions of a small minority of Mennonites in Canada (e,g. black dress and bonnets, horses and buggies, etc.). What most people don’t know is that there are more Mennonites in Ethiopia than in Canada, and that Mennonite culture in Africa (or other countries) is something entirely different than in North America.

The show gets many things about Mennonites wrong. But Mennonites are not an easy group to understand, what with there being so many different kinds in Canada. Could Mennonites do a better job of explaining themselves to the media and public at large? 

Yes, undoubtedly, but it’s a challenging task to break through the noise of media and culture until an attention grabbing opportunity arrives, like Pure. Mennonites tend to let their lives and actions toward others speak for themselves, rather than expending energy on explaining ourselves to an audience that probably doesn’t care a whole lot until a controversy or drama like “Pure” comes along.

Additionally, there is no shortage of information about Mennonites online. Anyone with access to the Internet can at any time learn more than they probably want to know about Mennonite faith and culture in Canada and beyond.

What kind of problems do you find with Pure?

Like many other Mennonites, I am surprised at what appears to be a poorly researched setting for this story.

The show depicts Low German speaking Mennonites from Mexican (Old Colony) with the visual life style distinctions of Old Order Mennonites who have been in Southern Ontario since the early 1800s. This is problematic for many, and perhaps especially for the media-shy Old Order folks themselves as they are now associated with criminal activity that to my knowledge does not exist in their community.

The Low German speaking Mennonites from Mexico depicted in the drama would not really be considered “Old Order” in the context of Southern Ontario, where the show is set; for example, Old Order Mennonites in southern Ontario do not speak Low German, and would not have surnames like “Funk” or “Epp”.

Do you think this show will be harmful for Mennonites in Canada?

I believe the accumulated positive weight of Mennonite faith and reputation of our churches and organizations helping out locally and internationally with aid, relief, disaster assistance, poverty alleviation, feeding the hungry, etc. will in the long run overcome any negative impressions the viewing audience of Pure will generate.

Can you see anything positive coming out of Pure for Mennonites?

A hopefully positive outcome for Mennonites is that this show has the potential to make us more empathetic and sensitive to other groups that have been stereotyped by the media and popular culture, such as First Nations or Muslims. Mennonites are by no means immune to stereotyping other groups. I hope Pure will help us reflect on what are feeling, and I hope it makes us more aware of our own assumptions of others.

The other faith group to have recently experienced this kind of exposure are the Mormons (the play The Book of Mormon). Mormon's decided not to fight it. Instead, they used it as a way to talk about their faith. Do you think Mennonites could do the same? 

The Mormon response of using the play as an open door, not being defensive, was the right response for them, and even courageous in their context. I would say Pure also gives Mennonites in Canada a responsibility to engage their faith, and walk through the open door this presents with integrity, sensitivity and grace. Angry, defensive responses to inquirers, whether in private or in public, will not serve anyone well. But your question raises another question: Who has the right to tell whose story?

Click here to read my Free Press column on this topic.

For Some Canadian Mennonites, New CBC Show is Anything but Pure

For two Mennonite historians, the new CBC drama about a drug-running Mennonite colony is anything but Pure.

 
For those unfamiliar with the show, Pure is the fictitious story of Noah Funk, a newly-elected Mennonite pastor who wants to rid his community of drug traffickers led by “Menno mob" leader Eli Voss.
 
Filmed in Nova Scotia, the show is loosely based on the real-life experiences of a few Old Colony Mennonites who were caught smuggling drugs from Mexico to Canada.
 
As a viewer, Royden Loewen, Chair in Mennonite Studies at the University of Winnipeg says he was “mildly entertained” by the show. 
 
But “as a Canadian who loves this culturally diverse country I was troubled and dismayed,” he adds.
 
Loewen, who has written extensively about both the Old Order ‘horse and buggy’ Mennonites of southern Ontario and the Low German Mennonite migrants from Mexico, says Pure is “based on a fundamental misunderstanding of the horse-and-buggy community in southern Ontario, and creates an error-ridden depiction of a vulnerable and highly visible religious minority group.”
 
To him, the show also “seems sloppily researched and produces a caricature of what it purports to be a real community.”
 
Among the things the show gets wrong, he says, are the accent, the names, the theology, the buggies they use, the church architecture, “and the very notion of the existence of a ‘colony.’” 
 
The show also “conflates a story” about a drug smuggling ring within a Low German-speaking Old Colony Mexican Mennonite immigrant community with the horse and buggy Old Order Mennonites of Ontario, he adds.
 
Sam Steiner, former librarian and archivist at Conrad Grebel College in Waterloo, Ont., feels the same way. 
 
Like Loewen, he also says the actors get the accent wrong. (Which isn’t surprising, since Ryan Robbins, who plays Noah Funk in the show, said one of the ways he picked the accent he uses in the show was by listening to what he called “Anabaptist” women, who were “presumably” Mennonites, in a market in Nova Scotia.)
 
Steiner also notes that no Low German Mennonites in Canada use horses and buggies, nor do they wear straw hats—that’s what the Amish wear.
 
There are other problems, he says, such as the way the fictitious colony members choose their preacher; the role of women in worship services; and even the title of the preacher himself. It is always “minister,” not “pastor”—the title used in the show—Steiner says.
 
Both feel that the CBC has let down Mennonites in Canada, and Canadians in general, by making the show.
 
“It would seem that CBC, for reasons of entertainment, has contravened its mandate to bring understanding and respect to vulnerable groups within the Canadian multicultural mosaic,” says Loewen.
 
The broadcaster, he adds, is failing in its “responsibility to enhance respect and understanding among Canada’s diverse ethnic and religious groups.”
 
Canadians, he says, “expect much more from our national publicly owned media.”
 
Steiner agrees. He wishes the CBC had not “implicated part of the Mennonite community they knew had nothing to do with the ‘true story’ they based it on. I suspect it was deliberate, not sloppy research.”
 
While thinking about Pure, I was reminded of another CBC show about a religious group: Little Mosque on the Prairie.
 
That show, about Muslims living in the fictional town of Mercy, Saskatchewan, ran from 2007-12. 
 
As with Pure, it also got things wrong. But the spirit of the show was light and generous, and Canadian Muslims generally felt positive about how it depicted them. 

“At first there were some reservations, but younger Muslims like it right away while elders took some time to warm up to it,” says Shahina Siddiqui, a Muslim community leader in Winnipeg.

What she liked about the show is that it “normalized the Canadian Muslim community in all its diversity and dimensions. It encouraged conversations.”

Pure is encouraging conversations, too, at least in the Mennonite community. But it doesn’t sound like they are all that positive—or complimentary towards the CBC.

Click here to read a Q & A with Dan Dyck of Mennonite Church Canada about his response to Pure.

Paper Nazis: Anti-Semitism (and Mennonites) in Manitoba before World War II

My interview with Byron and Melita Rempel-Burkholder about their work to get Mennonite Church Canada to pass a resolution about Palestine-Israel this summer prompted some negative reaction from people in the Manitoba Jewish community, including some who pointed out that, before WW 2, some Mennonites supported the Nazi party. It reminded me of my friend Andrew Wall's documentary exploring this chapter in Mennonite, and Manitoba, history.

For Winnipeg film maker Andrew Wall, it all started with a simple question: Were Jews discriminated against at Victoria Beach in the 1940s?

I had heard the rumour, but I wasn't sure it was true," says Wall, whose family has owned a cottage at Victoria Beach for more than 60 years.

His desire to find an answer led him on an unexpected and shocking journey into a part of Winnipeg's history that many know nothing about—and that others might prefer to forget.

The result is Paper Nazis, a documentary from Farpointfilms that explores the rise and fall of two anti-Semitic extremist groups in Winnipeg in the 1930s: the Nazi movement and the Canadian Nationalist Party.

"The anti-Semitism of that time struck me as unbelievable," says Wall, 35, of his research into attitudes towards Jews in Manitoba during that period. "I couldn't believe it happened in Canada."

Through interviews with people such as journalist Frances Russell, historian Allan Levine, former MLA Saul Cherniak, academic Helmut-Harry Loewen and others, Wall details how the two organizations promoted hatred of Jews in southern Manitoba through marches, rallies, picnics and the press.

The documentary begins with William Whittaker, a First World War veteran who used his newspaper, The Canadian Nationalist, to praise Hitler, condemn communism, urge boycotts against Jewish businesses and to call on Canadians to unite against "Jewish international, economic and financial domination."

The Canadian Nationalist Party died out before the war, but not before clashing with local Communists in 1934 in downtown Winnipeg in what was called, at the time, the "Market Square riot" and the "battle of Market Square."

Wall also documents how the German consulate in Winnipeg mobilized local support for the new Nazi state in the 1930s.

Key to their effort was the Deutsche Zeitung, a locally printed newspaper that published Nazi propaganda in the guise of impartial news.

The newspaper, which was marketed to Manitoba's German-language population, including Manitoba Mennonites, also had English sections that subscribers were encouraged to share with their English-speaking neighbours.

The documentary shines a bright light on the crusading efforts of John W. Dafoe, the editor of the Winnipeg Free Press.

Dafoe was an early and unrelenting critic of Whittaker and other pro-Nazi and anti-Semitic organizations in the province; he was later joined by the Tribune, which condemned the "vicious... anti-Jewish literature... issued by Nazis."

If Wall was surprised to learn about this unknown aspect of Winnipeg history.

"I never heard about this in school," he says, adding he was shocked to learn that his own great-grandfather, a revered figure in Manitoba's Mennonite community, was a minority shareholder in the Deutsche Zeitung.

"I was absolutely stunned," he says of the discovery, adding that other family members, including his parents, were unaware of the connection. "It was very unexpected and confusing."

Today, he has a better understanding of why his great-grandfather, and some other Manitoba Mennonites, were supportive of Nazi Germany before the Second World War.
"Many had lost everything during the Communist terror in Russia," he says, noting they might have been attracted by the Nazi party's anti-Communist stance.

Plus, he adds, the Nazi plan to eradicate Jews also wasn't known at that time.

During his research, Wall kept asking himself: "Why is it that my generation never heard about this?"

He hopes that the documentary will spark greater interest in Manitoba schools in this unknown part of the province's history, and that it will also remind people to be on the lookout for extremism today.

"We have to be on guard against ideas that try to blame problems on another group," he says.

And what about that rumour about Victoria Beach—was it true? Unfortunately, yes, as Wall found out.

In 1943, when a Jewish family tried to buy a cottage in that area, the local newspaper published an article titled: Unwanted people: A Reminder to Property Owners and Agents.

"You have an obligation to your neighbours at Victoria Beach... to see to it that those unwanted people who have overrun beaches on the other side of Lake Winnipeg are not permitted to buy or rent here," the article stated.

In the grain trade, it went on to say, "there are certain unwanted grades, and these people are unwanted grades at Victoria Beach."

Read more about anti-Semitism in Manitoba before World War Two by the Manitoba Historical Society.

Originally published in the Winnipeg Free Press in April, 2011.

How Far Would You Go to Save a Life?

(March 13 is World Kidney Day, a day for raising awareness about kidney disease. With that in mind, here’s a column from 2014 about a Mennonite pastor who gave a bit more than most to help others—one of her kidneys.)

Over 3,000 Canadians are on waiting lists for a kidney transplant. Over 200 of them are in Manitoba. Many of these people will die while on the waiting list.

Carol Penner thinks that's wrong. So wrong, she donated a kidney herself to help someone who needed the life-saving procedure.

"These are needless deaths," she says of those who will die before receiving help. "There are millions of healthy kidneys in Canada."

Penner, pastor of Edmonton's Lendrum Mennonite Brethren Church, was moved to donate one of her kidneys after her husband lost one of his to cancer in 2008.

"I didn't realize how easy it is to live on one kidney," says the 53 year-old. "There was no change in his life."

After thinking about it for a couple of years, in 2011 she offered to donate a kidney as an undesignated donor--her kidney would go to whoever needed it most. What followed was a year of medical appointments, tests and questionnaires. 

Once accepted, Penner--then the pastor of First Mennonite Church in Vineland, Ontario--was put on the list to donate when needed.

In October, 2012 she received a call and had surgery to remove one of her kidneys. Soon after, someone living somewhere in Canada received her gift of life.

Why did she do it? 

"People across Canada are dying of kidney disease," she says. "If I could save someone's life, why not do that?"

Her faith also played an important role. 

"Our body is the biggest gift God has given us, especially if we've been given good health," she says. "We can share it with someone who needs to get healthy."

Looking back, Penner says that donating a kidney was "one of the most joyful things I have done in my life."

Now she is on a quest to encourage more people to help save the lives of those awaiting a new kidney-starting with her own denomination. 

"As Mennonites, we could lead the way," she says of the 200,000 or so Mennonites in Canada. If just a fraction of that number donated a kidney, "we could wipe out the 

waiting list in a year."

She acknowledges it won't be easy; giving a kidney is quite a bit different than giving money to feed people who are hungry, poor or sick in another part of the world.

But she thinks Mennonites, and other denominations and faith groups, should still try. 

 "We are constantly encouraged to give money to help others without needing to know who they are," she says. 

"Why not do the same with a kidney? The rewards are huge-you can save someone's life."

Penner has a blog about her experience of donating a kidney, and is happy to correspond with people who are interested in doing the same thing. Click here to visit it.

Why So Few Good Fiction Books About Religion?

The Feb. 22 Winnipeg Free Press carried a review of Leah Vincent's memoir, Cut Me Loose: Sin and Salvation After My Ultra-Orthodox Girlhood. It is described as a tell-all story of “self-hate, self-damage, terrible loneliness and frightening and unfulfilling relationships” while growing up in an ultra-orthodox branch of Judaism in the U.S. The book reminded me of a column I wrote in 2009 about why there are so many books that portray religious communities in a terrible light.

Have you read the book about the Roman Catholic priest who served his parish well and long—never molested children, was always faithful in his duties and was much loved by everyone?

No? Well then maybe you read the book about the young Mennonite girl who grew up in a loving Christian home, attended an accepting and supportive church, and who became a joyful and dedicated Christian?

  
Missed that one, too? Well then, what about the book about the book about the Muslim woman who feels happy and secure in her religion, and who doesn’t feel oppressed?

  
What’s that—you never heard of any of these books?

I’m not surprised; they probably haven’t been written. Or, if they have, they certainly never became best sellers.

In 2005 Wendy Shalit touched off a literary firestorm in the U.S. when she criticized the way some writers who aren’t religious have portrayed ultra-Orthodox Jews in that country.

Writing in the New YorkTimes,  she said: “Authors who have renounced Orthodox Judaism—or those who were never really exposed to it to begin with—have often portrayed deeply observant Jews in an unflattering or ridiculous light.”

  
These books, she went on to say, leave “many people thinking traditional Jews actually live like Tevye in the musical ‘Fiddler on the Roof’ or, at the opposite extreme, are like the violent, vicious rabbi in Henry Roth’s novel Call it Sleep.”

  
What bothered Shalit the most was the impression these books left with people who knew little, or nothing, about Orthodox Jews.

  
“We have relied for too long on people disaffected with the Orthodox world to produce an ‘Orthodox literature’ that verges on caricature,” she said.

“Their characters, ostensibly spiritually motivated, never show anything resembling an inner life or concern for others . . . unfortunately, the media (and many readers) seem to feel that these writers are representing the traditional Jewish community, when by their own admission the authors do not identify with these worlds.”

  
I must admit to feeling a little bit like Shalit over how members of my church—Mennonites—are sometimes portrayed by authors.

Take, for example, Miriam Toews’ book A Complicated Kindness. Set in the fictitious Manitoba town of East Village, it describes the effects of an oppressive, fundamentalistic and hypocritical Mennonite church on a teenage girl and her family. 

  
I can’t deny that this may be the way Toews experienced the Mennonite faith, or that those kinds of Mennonite churches have existed or still exist today.

But what I can say with certainty is that those aren’t the only kinds of churches in the Mennonite faith—back then, or now. But you would be hard-pressed to find many books about these kinds of faith communities.

I understand why publishers are more attracted to books that cast religion in a negative light. Stories about happy teenagers who love Jesus, go to church every Sunday and work at Bible camps each summer just don’t sell.

But write a story about a former churchgoer who rebells against religious authority, uses drugs and sleeps around—now we’ve got something!

  
One could argue that this is normal; the goal of fiction is to explore extremes. Who likes to read a book that doesn't featuring conflict, controversy and harrowing experiences? The escapades of a fallen believer will always be more interesting than someone who never does anything wrong.

But if that’s all that gets published, it doesn’t take long for a stereotype to emerge. And if the stereotype is reinforced often enough, it becomes the truth for those who don’t have a more complete picture of the group in question.

  
Maybe what's needed are more writers who explore not just the bad things that happen in the name of religion, but the good things, too. What's needed next are publishers willing to take a chance on books that promote the positive aspects of religious life.

Last, readers are needed to reward those publishers by buying those books—maybe people like you.

Originally published in 2009. If you want to reprint this column, send me a note. You can find my e-mail address in the post labelled About This Blog or in my profile.