A New Mennonite Replies to David Wright

As far as I can tell, most of our quilts are from our parents.

A parting gift as we journey to our own little Mennonite world,

But I’ve never even heard of Borscht.

We have pasta salad and cheesy potato casserole.

Meat Balls and Fruit-filled Jell-O.

Someone made peanut salad last Sunday.

Every week we have a hymn sing somewhere on campus.

It’s optional of course, so I stay in my dorm room,

Studying with a gay blonde guy.

His name is My Best Friend.

And here, others will fight for him more than he’ll fight for himself.
He tells me the speed of light is the same in all reference frames.
I write blog posts, trying to avoid "resonating" with something for the 4th time.

In convocation, we hope for academics,

Because Lord knows we can’t play the name game.

Neither can my Southern Baptist Friend.

We meet up on Wednesdays to talk Liberal politics,

After all, it’s only type of politics,

here.

I mean did Mitt Romney ever have a chance anyway?

Oh, Republicans.

So many thrifty Mennonites,

Driving used minivans and Oldsmobile’s,

Destination Goodwill or Aldi—never Walmart.

(Did he say Walmart? He supports child slave labor!)

We park ourselves in rowed-up chairs next to Real Mennonites,

With chin-strap beards and an iPad Mini.

Our theme this year is Passionately Following Jesus,

Unlike last year when we followed Obama instead.

“Our Father in Heaven, Hallowed be Your name.

Your…..come….your…be done,

As Earth as it is in Heaven.

…ah, our daily bread!

And…oh yes, our trespasses, As we…”

I mumble sounds where I don’t know the words,

Lest someone realize I don’t know Our Lord’s Prayer!

Though hymns have never been my favorite,

The four-part harmony never ceases to amaze (though I need the book on 606).

And we make our way through some piano-led tunes,

Or a traditional hymn with two accordions and a hammer dulcimer.

Our pastors change every week,

But they all graduated from here.

My favorite always prays for the college athletic teams.

“May they race for you in their hearts, Lord.”

After church we retire to the dorm to eat leftover ham salad—when there’s no potluck.

But today we eat at Los Primos—high class.

We speak to our waitress in Spanish, and notice a woman behind us,

Wearing a head covering and a plain blue dress.

We say nothing.

We are all Mennonites here.