One thread in the journey of my life has been a fascination with end-of-the-world issues. This began already in my teens. In the small, inner-city church in which I grew up, we would occasionally have guest teachers come in for series of Bible studies. Those I remember most vividly are the ones having to do with biblical prophecies, especially the books of Daniel and Revelation. I was fascinated as teachers would hang up long sheets of timelines, with all of the seven this’s and seven that’s on them.

Then in the seventies we had the book, The Late Great Planet Earth, which spread like wildfire through churches. This book contained an even more detailed outline of all the biblical prophecies, how everything fit together. Of course, this ignited fierce speculation on how all these prophecies would be fulfilled in our day.

When I attended seminary in the early eighties, I took courses on Revelation and other biblical prophetic literature. Here I was able to attain a much more balanced and clear-eyed view of what role the biblical prophecies actually played in the life and history of the Church. Working as an associate pastor I even taught a course on Revelation. I was still enthralled with these apocalyptical writings, but now was seeing them with a calmer perspective.

While I had come to a much saner outlook on biblical prophecy, it continued to fascinate me. I would read novels about the end of the world; I loved movies dealing with the topic. I continued to keep all these ideas in the back of my mind, always wondering how all this would turn out, how things would fit together at the end of time.

As I moved through the nineties and into the double-aughts decade I began to encounter writings and lectures on 2012. Here were prophecies from other cultures, chiefly the Mayan, but also other ancient societies, which dealt with end-of-the-world events. And all from very different perspectives. Speculation was growing that the year 2012 would somehow be the culmination of human history upon this planet. My thinking, as I was exposed to these other views, was that all of this new stuff had to somehow “fit” in with the old stuff I had learned earlier in my life from the Bible.

As I sit here writing this at the beginning of the year 2012, I still wonder how it will all “fit” as this year’s end approaches. I certainly no longer believe all the old ideas about how biblical prophecies will be fulfilled. I believe that the biblical apocalyptical writings had specific messages for their own audiences, in first century Palestine and before. And I still consider them relevant writings for us today.

But I certainly do not believe that we can take them in any sense literally. They were not “literally” intended to be taken literally! Their language was highly symbolic. Their references were veiled in apocalyptic language. All of the symbolism in them pertained to their own day, and to their own audiences. All of the visions and cataclysmic scenes were for them, primarily. They were not written for us. We can learn from them, but they do not outline modern history. I have heard way too many biblical preachers go through way too many sorts of intellectual gymnastics trying to fit things in to current events to give any of it much credence.

Another aspect to this thread as it works its way through my life time, is going to be dealt with in another chapter. This has to do not so much with apocalyptica, but with new interpretations of scriptures for today.

But before I move entirely away from this topic, there is one stream of apocalyptic writing which I want to deal with separately, in the next chapter. While it stems from prophetic writings, it has not to do as much with end-of-the-world topics as it does with lessons we can learn about today’s world.

He who has ears, let him hear.

From communal living I went straight into seminary. I have often viewed the back-to-back experiences of intentional community and seminary as the most foundational periods of my life. While intentional community provided practical insight for daily living, seminary provided the intellectual perspective for these experiences.

The seminary I attended was my denominational one, the Mennonite Brethren Biblical Seminary in Fresno, California. It was very pointedly a “biblical” seminary, as opposed to a “theological” one. That is, we were taught to begin our search from the  point of view of scripture, and not from a pre-formed theology.

I am incredibly grateful for this education. While only briefly using this education professionally (I am just not cut out to be a pastor!), it opened my eyes when it comes to biblical truth. I would not be who I am today without this experience.

Seminary only began the part of my journey which deals with the scriptures. While it certainly opened my eyes, I have come a long way from my seminary days. I no longer hold the holy writings as highly as I used to. I see that God has many ways of communicating with us, and the Bible is only one. More on this in later chapters.

In seminary I learned the roots of the Christian scriptures. I learned that it is a church document. The writings gathered into the canon of scripture by church leaders happened around the fourth century. As I walk my spiritual path, I am more and more coming to see that this gathering together of documents had a lot of human elements to it. There was agenda at play. There were church personalities at work. It was as much a political as it was a spiritual exercise to put together the writings which comprise the Bible. Methinks that people who put all their stock in biblical truth as the standard do not realize how much of their faith is in the historical activities of the early Church fathers.

I hope that if any of you ever hear me refer to the Bible as the “Word of God”, you will stop me in my tracks. The Bible itself should set us straight on this. Without going into a lot of detail, look at the following scriptures: John 1.1,2,14; Hebrews 4.12; Revelation 19.13. In our day the phrase, “the Word of God” has become synonymous with the Bible. And that, my reader, is skewed.

Don’t get me wrong. I revere the scriptures. I enjoy reading and studying them. There is truth in them. But I do view them in a way closer to what I think God intended for these writings. This is not the same way the Church views scripture.

Looking for a new church home in a new city some years ago, I heard a pastor say they were not biblicists. I was there! I could agree with that. Too, too many churches place way too much stock in the scriptures. And what they do not realize is that it is not really the scriptures in which they are placing their faith. It is their interpretation of the scriptures in which they believe.

I no longer worship the Bible. I worship the Creator of this universe, the Lord over all. Anytime I see a church name with the word “Bible” or “Truth” in it, I cringe. We have fallen a long way from the truth when we claim to have it.

During much of my life I was a worshipper of the Bible. It was in the words that I placed my faith. Sure, those words pointed the way to God. They proclaimed and portrayed God as having entered history, a God who takes intense interest in our world, in our lives, both individually and collectively. But I was not allowed by my context to go beyond the words. Anything outside the current view of scripture could not be tolerated. And I totally bought into that.

We, the Church, have become people of the book. Today I prefer to be a follower of the Way. The Way? The Way Jesus taught us to follow. The Way of love, and Spirit, and community.

One of the things I learned in seminary was that in Old Testament times, God’s voice to his people came primarily through spokespersons, called prophets. The Israelites of old had The Law, of course, written down, which we presume to be the first five books of our Old Testament. But nothing else was written until around the year 500 BCE. And from around 500 BCE and following, little more is recorded as having come from any prophets. Once the words were written, the voices ceased. Could this be mere coincidence? I think not. Once God’s word is written down, it becomes codified, “set in stone”, if you will. And it begins to seem sacrilegious to add anything to it.

I am not an expert on Church history. But the little I know would indicate the possibility of something similar happening in the early days of the Church. Much was being written during the first few hundred years of the Church’s existence. But when the Church fathers felt compelled to “set in stone” their scriptures, nothing else was allowed to be added, or written. The active voice of God fell silent once again. And according to some, it is still silent some 1600 or 1700 years later.

In addition to no more writings allowed into the canon, the Church fathers, in their effort to establish the unified, solid theology of the Church, tried to destroy all writings not deemed to be “biblical”. Anything other than the books they chose to put into the Bible was considered heresy. They not only destroyed the “heretical” writings, they massacred the people who followed these teachings. They had made their political, strategic decision, and would not countenance any opposition to this decision. They wanted to wipe the slate clean, to start with a clear, unquestioned, authoritative version of the “truth”.

Can it be purely accidental that some of these heretical writings have begun to surface in our day? In the last century or so, many of the writings thought to have been completely destroyed by the Church have begun to show up, and to be translated and studied. They reveal many interesting modes of thought among the earliest followers of Jesus.

There certainly is no clear consensus on what all these other scriptures mean; there is no consistent message contained in them. But there are some things which we can glean from these discoveries.

To me, one of the most important conclusions is that there was no one consistent system of belief among the earliest followers of the Way. People who heard Jesus, or who heard of him from his earliest followers, did not all come out believing the same way, or believing the same things. There was no uniformity until it was forced upon the Church by the early leaders.

We know, from the accounts we do have, biblical and otherwise, that both Christians and Jews were scattered around the year 70 CE when Roman soldiers came in to settle once-and-for-all the problem of the Jewish dissidents in Palestine. Remember that Christianity at this time would still have been seen as a sect of Judaism, one of many such. Believers of both faiths ended up in all parts of the Roman Empire. Many miraculous and magnificent stories have survived about those who fled Palestine, and carried their beliefs and ways of life to other lands, other cultures.

As they established themselves in these other lands, they themselves were shaped by these lands, languages, and cultures. This has always been part of human patterns of migration and societies. Along with this, belief systems were also influenced by the lands into which they settled.

The geographical separation was a factor in the diversity which grew up within Christianity in the first few centuries. For the first while, Christians were fearful for their very lives. After some years of settling down in new places, contact would’ve begun to be reestablished with believers in other areas. But by then many new ways of thinking had sprung up. Admittedly, some of this is conjecture on my part, for, as I stated earlier, I am not an expert in Church history. But the knowledge I do have, of both human behaviour and of human culture, would lead me to believe that things evolved much as I am proposing here.

So, what I am saying through all this is that there was great diversity in beliefs among the earliest followers of Jesus. I think this was right and good. And I think this is right and good today as well. I think we need great diversity in ways of believing and living out our faith. So let us learn tolerance toward one another, and perhaps even listen and learn from each other!!

A huge influence in my spiritual walk occurred during the seventies. This experience was intentional community. In an attempt to put the biblical account of the early church into practice, several dozen Christians lived communally. In various arrangements of households of families and single people, we shared our possessions, our income, our decisions, our lives.

This was an incredibly intense time of my life. Living that closely with others cannot help but rub off some rough edges of a personality. And rough edges do not come off easily! But, while this experience was not always particularly fun, I experienced a lot of joy through this time. Tremendous personal growth happened for me in many areas: spiritually, emotionally, religiously, mentally. My marriage strengthened, my wife and I began our family (my two sons often explain their biblical names by saying their parents were Christian hippies!!), it led to a much clearer idea of the bigger picture of what life is about. Certainly the idea that life is lived in community with others became a central theme for me.

One exciting aspect of all this was that I came to see there were practical applications for biblical truth. Through living communally, we as a group were demonstrating Biblical ideals lived out. We acknowledged throughout this experience that communal living was not for everyone. But we felt specifically called to do this, at that time, as an example of God’s love to the world.

An illustration of this: one way to demonstrate God’s love was taking people into our households as a way to help them out. Jay came to us as one of the many thousands of really messed-up Viet Nam war vets. He had gotten heavily involved in drugs over there, like so many of our young men did, and was trying to clean up his life.

I don’t know all the military terms and positions, but Jay had been an expert in weapons. We were living on a farm, and one day the owner took Jay out for some casual hunting. Jay was walking along carrying a shot gun at his side, barrel down. The farmer asked him if he could hit that fence post up ahead. Without hesitation, without breaking stride Jay leveled the gun one-handed at his waist and blasted off the top of the post. He did know how to shoot!

For some reason Jay developed an intense dislike of me. One day when the rest of the household was gathered in the living room for prayer, we could hear Jay upstairs pacing. Finally we heard his footsteps coming down the stairs. Goosebumps formed on my arms. I could sense the sinister nature of whatever was about to happen. Jay announced to the group, “You win,” and stomped outside.

Later we learned that he had been upstairs attempting to summon his knife. He had this weapon of death which he was going to use to kill me. He did not know exactly where his weapon was, but felt that through occult means he could summon this knife to himself. Apparently he had been involved in satanic rituals, and had successfully invoked his weapon before. This time his methods did not work.

I learned two lessons that night. One is the utter reality of the Spirit dimension, both light and dark. There are other forces, unseen, surrounding us at all times, and ready to interact with us. Two, I am protected! It was not my time to die that night, and Jay was not allowed to be the instrument of my death. I sensed that I had much to do in this life yet, many things to accomplish; my tasks were not yet over. I took this very seriously to heart. In no way have I ever taken this lightly.

Leaving intentional community for seminary a few years later was extremely wrenching. Anticipating this, my wife and I took an entire year to process our decision with our households of fellow Christian brothers and sisters. Our family leaving the community was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back; within a year, all aspects of that intentional community had fallen by the wayside.

While sad about this, I am able to see the importance this communal expression of spiritual truth was in my life at that time. Great memories were made. Lifelong friendships were forged. Although many of us live in places scattered all over now, looking each other up as opportunity provides reminds me of the deep friendships formed during that tough time of community living. I have never regretted the decision to participate in this shared expression of life together.

Late sixties: we were invited to participate in a small group within our church. This group was going to meet in someone’s home, to pray and study the Bible. Today it is difficult to imagine just how radical that seemed at the time! The church leadership did not want this home group to exist; they were threatened by it. The only reason we were allowed to meet was that a member of the church leadership team agreed to be part of this group.

Some of the hot topics of the day was speaking in tongues, prayer for healing, and other such practices which subsequently came to be known as the charismatic movement. We felt very brave in discussing these topics. Was speaking in tongues of the devil? What role does our personal faith play in prayer for healing? We studied the Bible intensely, and prayed just as intensely, as we sought the truth about these issues.

Later, through the seventies, issues raged. Did being baptized in the Holy Spirit require one to speak in tongues? Was tongues evidence of this baptism? Another debate raged over the type of music in the church. The churches I had been part of  sang hymns, usually verses 1, 3, and 4!! But other groups were beginning to sing choruses. And leading them with guitar! Horrors! Again, it is difficult to remember how big these issues were back then. I got very involved in leading the music in our church. I learned to play guitar, and most Sundays I was front and center in praise singing. This was a most wonderful experience for me, one I still look back to with great fondness.

Early eighties: while attending seminary, a conservative fundamentalist student challenged one of my professors, “Seems to me you’re being awfully kind to the charismatics!” The professor replied, “I intend to be. The charismatics have been a great gift to the church in opening up a long-neglected area.” The student sat down with a “harumph!”

Another mind-blowing experience I had while in seminary was at a conference hosted by the seminary. Attending was the district minister where my former, “charismatic” church was situated. He had vigorously opposed the directions our church was taking. He and our pastor had butted heads numerous times over both the charismatic aspects of our church as well as the intentional community we practiced (see next chapter). During a break in the conference, I sidled up to a group of conference leaders which included this district minister. As I joined the group, this man said without any hesitation, “Gentlemen, I want to introduce you to Dennis. Back home, when my wife and I want to really experience God, we go to Dennis’ church.” I about dropped my coffee! I could not believe what I was hearing. That this man could have changed that much was utterly astounding.

To be sure, there were many errors in the charismatic movement. Excesses went as far as people dying from trying to manufacture a healing and stopping their medication, thinking this an indication of faith. Much guilt was piled onto people who didn’t have enough faith to be healed. Others gave leaders way too much authority, which inevitably was abused. But, as my professor’s comment indicated, there was much good brought to the church scene through the charismatic movement.

Before leaving this era, I want to share a couple more stories which occurred in the early eighties, right after I was through seminary. A common belief in churches during these times was paranoia about the world. I remember people getting up in arms over the Procter and Gamble symbol.  I don’t remember all the details, but this symbol included something like a moon and stars. Procter and Gamble was a company producing all sorts of household goods, cleaners, soaps and the like. But someone, somewhere, came up with the idea that their symbol indicated that the company was evil, it was devilish in some way. I viewed this as pure foolishness, but  for a time this fervour swept through the churches we associated with.

Another time we dropped in to see friends. I was listening to public radio, and had enjoyed a certain piece of music. This music was still in my head as we began our visit, and I expressed appreciation for it. When I mentioned the musician, one of our friends expressed horror over this music. “That’s pure new-age music!” she exclaimed, and made it very clear that this was not a good thing.

Again, this is early eighties, and the term “new-age” was just coming into vogue. I had heard the phrase, but never in negative terms. I pondered this knee-jerk reaction for quite awhile. And obviously, because I still remember it thirty years on, it made quite an impression on me! New-age, eh? What does that mean? Why the negative response to something which has acquired the label “new-age”? Isn’t the Christian faith “new-age”? Surely we believe in a new age to come? So, isn’t Christianity in essence a “new-age” religion? And if some in society have co-opted this term, shouldn’t we take it back by proclaiming what we believe to be the true new age?

So, this is a very brief glimpse, along with the next chapter, on what was a very foundational period of life, especially in my spiritual walk. The other part of this period, intentional community, comes next.

I was twenty-two years old, working in a hospital in small-town central Kansas. I was disillusioned about church, and had pretty much stopped attending. A young man my age was admitted with hepatitis, and needed to be in complete isolation for a period of weeks. Five days a week, I became Doug’s nurse-aide. The contagion issue forced me to scrub down each time I entered his room. Because of this, I would generally leave him until the end of the morning, go in, do all the cleaning and linen changing required, timing it so that lunch would come about the time I was all done everything else. So most days I was in this man’s room for about a solid hour at a time.

Doug had just graduated from Moody Bible Institute in Chicago, a school I considered so ultra-conservative I wouldn’t have approached it with a ten-foot pole! I viewed it as extremely bad luck that I had to be stuck with this pious missionary-minded person for such a long time, each day. Doug was not feeling sick, just quite weak, and cheerfully settled into a routine. He had a tape recorder brought in so he could listen to Bible lectures; he had many books, etc. Inwardly I sneered at all his religiosity; outwardly, of course, I had to be civil as I worked in his room to meet his needs.

Over the weeks we developed quite a contest! He would share with me his own beliefs, the things he was learning, reading about, hearing on tape. I would try and bait him with controversial issues of the day. To his credit, Doug never took the bait. He engaged me in all sorts of topics without batting an eye. I grew to admire him in this.

What I learned from this encounter with Doug was that I did not need to “throw out the baby with the bath-water”. Just because I was turned off by church and rejected much of what it stood for, I did not need to also reject my personal faith, my own spiritual life. I came away from this experience ready to continue participating in my faith tradition. My wife and I were at the cusp of a cross-country move to Vancouver, BC. I figured in a city like that, it might be worthwhile to give church one more try. What hadn’t worked for me in conservative central Kansas might be a better experience in a cosmopolitan center like Vancouver.

And it worked! We moved to Vancouver, found a church there, even a Mennonite Brethren one, and had a life-changing experience! But I credit Doug Wedel for helping me stay on track–preventing me from going completely off course. Though he and I came from vastly different places, he was able to be open enough to engage me right where I was at that time. And through becoming my friend, he helped me see that all was not lost with organized religion.

I trust that Doug, whom I have totally lost contact with over the years, will find plenty of rewarding “Well done, thou good and faithful servant” statements upon entering his reward!

So that is how it all began. From starting to veer off into a very secular life-style, to remaining in the church and beginning my spiritual journey. I have always been thankful for Doug’s influence in my life.

One other event which taught me valuable lessons for life occurred a few years before Doug. I was eighteen, a freshman in college. A part-time job as janitor helped with costs. One of my tasks was cleaning the gym after basketball games. Several hours was required to erase the mess left behind by a couple thousand rabid fans. After pushing back the bleachers and mopping the floor, my last duty was to turn out all the lights. The janitor’s closet was diagonally across the basketball court from the exit. The only visible light was a small, red exit light. It appeared very tiny when viewed in total darkness! After assuring myself that everything was put away, the gym floor completely clear, I would turn off the lights, and walk across toward that dim light in the distance. I could see nothing. Waving my hand in front of my face revealed absolutely nothing. Total darkness! I steeled myself to walk boldly across what I knew in my mind to be a clear pathway, keeping an active imagination at bay.

I have always viewed this as a picture of my spiritual journey. We do not have to know our next step. We have only to trust. “Jump, and the net will appear!” a poster  of old stated.

The chapters following contain many chronicles of unexpected events. There is no way I could have anticipated most (or any!) of the events in my life. It has been an exciting life to live thus far. I anticipate no less excitement as I enter my “retirement” years. But it is also often a lonely existence. Often misunderstood, sometimes opposed, I have learned to trust the Spirit’s leading through the darkness which is the future.

OUT OF WINKLER: 

TRAVELS OF A

MENNONITE HERETIC

by

DENNIS VOTH, AN URBAN MONK

A journey is like marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it. John Steinbeck

INTRODUCTION

“Winkler”, the town where I began this life. We lived on a farm about ten miles north of Winkler. My beginnings were very rural-oriented.

“Travels”, because, as journeys tend to go, there have been many ups and downs, many comings and goings, many unexpected corners. My life has been a journey: an exciting journey, many times rocky, always drawn toward truth. Truth has been the constant. What is really true? How do I determine what is true?

“Mennonite”, because that is my heritage. I was born into the Mennonite community of southern Manitoba, with family roots in the Mountain Lake, Minnesota area. This heritage provided a strong foundation for life. I value my background, history and connections. But it was also a rigid religious system, not given to exploration and experimentation.

“Heretic”, because I have always been one to question, not accepting at face value, things I was taught. Periodically in my life I have found myself at odds, out of step with orthodoxy. While I still participate in the organized religion of my heritage, I would likely be branded a heretic if people knew the truth of what I currently believe!

Perhaps a brief definition of the word “heretic” might be in order! Basically put, heresy is anything outside my own belief system. In fundamental, black-and-white terms, if there is a truth out there, I believe it. If it is something I do not believe is true, that becomes for me “heresy”. I know that is simplistic, and perhaps a lighter meaning of the word than the way it is often used. A seminary professor once stated that people were always free to disagree with him by believing heresy! He was speaking somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but only somewhat.

Another thought about heresy, before we move on. Heresy is only a human concern. God made us the way we are, and a huge part of that is our human curiosity. We want to know. We are made to seek truth. And the process of seeking implies that we will not always have it right. I look back on my own life and my spiritual journey, and realize I would have considered some of my current beliefs heresy not that many years ago. And some of the things I believed, or the way I believed about God and truth, in the past, I have moved away from.

I don’t generally consider my past beliefs as wrong, just incomplete. Moving from immaturity to maturity is not the same as moving from wrong to right. So, it can be “right“ to believe in heresy as we move through various stages of thought and faith. The important thing is that we are moving, we are growing in our understanding. So, in relation to God, I do not think it is crucial what we believe at any one stage of life. What is important to God is that we grow and change. In other words, heresy is a human concern. I doubt there is such a thing as “heresy” in God’s eyes.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Aging provides valuable perspective on life. As I look back at my life, I can identify many periods of time which were crucial to my developing into who I am today. Life also begins to appear simpler than it was in the midst of these periods. Times of change and upheaval are never easy or simple while we go through them. Hindsight often clears things up. The chapters of this account will open up various stages or periods of my life, shedding insight into what makes me tick today.

What hindsight reveals is that the longer I live, the more I tend toward the simplest roots of my religious tradition. For example, I like to go right to the heart of the biblical account of Jesus, his life and his teaching. While my current beliefs may be at odds with Church orthodoxy, I try to understand as clearly as possible what the Creator revealed to the world in the life of Jesus.

The first few chapters will highlight briefly early events on my spiritual journey. Chapter four and beyond will begin to get into the heavier stuff. There I will deal with areas more pertinent to who I am today. But I do have a history. And so I will present, albeit briefly, some of the early events in my life.

This tale is my spiritual journey. There are many areas of my life I do not go into; I have a great many interests which do not enter much into this story. This does not mean they are not important to me. Family, marriage, choral singing, motorcycling, building and flying a small airplane, have all been important areas of my life. But this account stays with the spiritual aspects of my life, my growth through theology, study, experience, and spiritual practice.

While I view my spiritual journey as a constant one, it has involved many twists and turns. Each chapter considers one particular thread on the path. While the chapters are laid out roughly chronologically, there is much overlap. One chapter may deal with a particular thread which has woven its way into and through my life over a long period of time. Then I may go back in time in the next chapter to pick up yet another thread which has contributed to who I am today.

The John Steinbeck quote with which I opened this journey-log is telling. To be on a journey is to be not-in-control, to a great extent. There is a huge element of trust  when following the leading and direction of Spirit. God does not often give us the larger view. Most of the time we are only conscious of the step we are now taking, future steps glimpsed only vaguely, if at all.