“Why not offer some goddamn encouragement?” Nomi
asks near the end of chapter 21 (175). More importantly, near the end of what
control of herself that she has left. That quote asks an important question.
When does the church stop pushing and start pulling? How do themes of the
hardship of being Christian or Mennonite weigh in with themes of love and hope
in the Gospel? We know that in East Town, under the rule of The Mouth, they
don’t weigh in at all.
Throughout Nomi’s story, she is constantly oppressed or avoiding discipline
from the church, as is most of her entire family. Looking at the Mennonite
church as a whole through the lives of those we encounter in A
Complicated Kindness, it is portrayed as a place of burden—of rules
and standards to be lived up to. In the case of Nomi’s family, it is a place of
standards that will never be lived up too, save possibly Ray. While The Mouth’s
Mennonite Church seems to be a more exaggerated version of an overly-strict
church, this is a theme in most Mennonite literature and among the current
Mennonite Church.
Part of being a Mennonite is embracing a past of hardship. It is a focus on the
past and on tradition. Mennonite action is always reliant on the stances of
those who came before you because they are revered as increasingly righteous
the farther back in time you look. This, coupled with the idea of not being of the
world, creates a build-up of rules and expectations kept from generation to
generation. And this is where Nomi enters the equation. She gets the build-up
of all those generations of expectations thrust upon her. Or, firstly, Trudie
and Tash recieve those expectations and can’t handle them. "It's killing
me! Mom, it really is!" Tash yells before she leaves. And then Trudie says
something that Nomi doesn't expect: "I know, honey. I know it is"
(146). We realize here that those expectations are killing both of them. In the
end, we find out that Mr. Quiring was controlling Trudie by threatening her
with those standards, and Nomi is also shunned for not being to conform. As a
child, Nomi is convinced her sister will burn in Hell because of her actions,
and Trudie struggles to find a sense of hope to present to Nomi.
Without standards, we are weak Christians. We now have massive mega-churches
surrounding my home town in Dover, Ohio. People go, listen to the sermon,
participate in the groups if asked, watch a movie at the church’s movie
theater, and go home to act like every other non-Christian. There are no
standards for a well-lived life, so no one tries to act any differently. This
is what Mennonites try to avoid. Last year, Keith Graber Miller, while giving a
lecture in Religion and Sexuality, mentioned that Mennonites, above most other
Christian sects, criticize acts that are viewed as sinful—instead, they will
debate among themselves until it is seen as righteous, and then they accept it.
The Mennonite church has always been hard on sin, unlike denominations like
Catholicism, who take the approach of accepting sin as unavoidable and offer
regular forgiveness. Before I was a Christian, I was attracted to the Mennonite
church because it was different. People seemed to live differently.
I know that having high standards can inspire greatness and righteousness in
how we live as well as give fulfillment to our lives, but Nomi asks the
important question, when is it too much? Because of the harsh standards, Nomi’s
entire life falls apart. By the end, she is on drugs, is mentally unbalanced,
has dropped out of high school, has lost both parents and her sister to
abandonment, and lost complete faith in the faith that should have been
striving to guide her continually toward God. We see from this that too far is
when people want to strive toward standards but can never reach them. Standards
are only good as long as most of them are attainable. They need not be so easy
that anyone can waltz in and conform, but they cannot be so impossible as to
drive people away or drive them crazy. Nomi’s story shows us what can happen
under a church that is so unbalanced in this way.
Kolton, there's a lot to think about here. Definitely, Toews is showing us a church that has forgotten about grace, forgiveness, and compassion--except that there are a few people here and there who show a "complicated kindness" to each other. I'm thinking of Gloria in the store, and the nicer of the two nurses who responds empathically to Nomi when the other nurse is so grouchy. However, with a rule-enforcer like "The Mouth" around, people obey out of fear, and shun those who break the rules for fear of contamination. So how do you maintain a compassionate, open, and forgiving community and still maintain standards? It's a tough question, but I think you've put your finger on something important to discuss further. Your connection with Keith Graber Miller's comment is also quite pertinent. Mennonites do believe in LIVING out your faith, so there's more accountability in Mennonite community than in most. Yet what it MEANS to live out that faith, and HOW we live out that faith, are very much up for discussion. Sometimes in Mennonite history, though, they haven't been up for discussion. Do you remember the Sylvia Gross Bubalo exhibit in which she critiqued community, especially the rigid dress rules that were enforced when she was a child? Clearly, rules and doctrine with out love, compassion and forgiveness will bankrupt a religion pretty quickly.
ReplyDeleteI think your last paragraph relates a lot to the critical article I read. In the article, Steffler talks about "The Mouth" being a disembodied entity. In that, we have Nomi losing her mother tongue, her maternal body and being disciplined and oppressed by a disembodied mouth. Without the body, and the compassion, warmth and safety of the body, the mouth can only do so much.
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