As I wandered through Zurich for the celebration of 500 years of Anabaptism, I kept looking for people wearing green stickers—symbols marking those participating in the celebrations. These stickers were hard to miss, as thousands of Mennonites filled the historic centre of the city. Every time I saw a group, I would smile, wave, and call out, “Hi, Mennonite!”
People would smile instantly, wave back, and often strike up a brief conversation. Where are you from? What are your connections to this global community? More often than not, we would discover someone we both knew or a place we had both experienced.
It was beautiful to tangibly see that we were participating in something much bigger than ourselves, and to experience our faith and heritage on display in such a public way. Five hundred years after the Anabaptist movement began in Zurich amid pain and persecution, my identity and community were being celebrated. A quilt with a stitched cross hung at the front of one Zurich church, while a choir from Indonesia sang “True Evangelical Faith” in Indonesian. Members of the Lutheran and Mennonite churches publicly washed each other’s feet in a sign of reconciliation and forgiveness during the central church service in the Grossmünster Church. As the service ended and we exited the church where Ulrich Zwingli would have ordered the death of the first Anabaptists, the church bells across the city began to ring in honour of our movement. I left inspired by all we shared.
As I ended the day, however, I was reminded of the inspiration of not only being Mennonite but also being human together. On the bus ride back to our hotel in Germany, I ended up sharing my seat with a giant Menno Simons puppet that had been used for some of the youth activities during the day. I was filled with delight over the absurdity of my seat companion. My first impulse was to tell everyone I knew, but there were only a limited number of people who would understand the particularities of my giddy text and photo—most of them already with me. Yet as the bus pulled out of the city, church bells still pealing, I sent it out anyway, with the faith that my joy would be infectious, regardless of how much my loved ones understood the context. In that moment, simply being human and sharing something joyful felt more important than being Mennonite.
The focus of the 500th-year celebration was the Courage to Love. General Secretary César García highlighted the choice of those early Anabaptists, half a millennium ago, to reject violence in the face of persecution and to love their enemies. “For them, the courage to love, made possible by the work of the Holy Spirit, was the only path to a new humanity,” he said.
With Menno Simons as company, I reflected on the long drive back. I don’t actually need a green sticker to yell out a greeting of connection with those around me. I love celebrating what makes Mennonites unique, and I also love exploring what I share with anyone, no matter where we come from. Beyond being Mennonite—and regardless of faith or cultural background—there is so much about being human and being alive that we share.
A humanity based on love starts with seeing each other as human.
Since returning from Zurich, I’ve been more attentive to glimpses of other people’s humanity—not just the familiar expressions of my own. As I walk around my city, I’ve noticed moments of smiles between passersby and small kindnesses expressed through strangers helping each other in the grocery store. In my advocacy work, it is a delight to see notes in my inbox about people signing advocacy letters on behalf of those they have never met, to meet with Members of Parliament who want to see Canada play a positive role in the world, and to participate in working groups filled with people different from myself working toward the same goals.
So, here is my invitation for this month: let’s look for each other’s humanity and shared belonging—and the way it complements or even sometimes overrides our other identities. It is beautiful to celebrate the uniqueness of our own individual communities and identities. But even as we do so, let’s pay attention to how those celebrations can encourage us to broaden our focus to what we all share. And when you notice something, celebrate it! Thank someone for their actions. Tell someone else what you are noticing.
Let’s build a shared community rooted in the courage to love—one encounter at a time.
Hi, human!
Reflection questions:
Can you recall a time when you felt deeply connected to someone outside your usual community—through kindness, vulnerability, or shared experience? How did that moment reflect God’s love?
What does “the courage to love” look like in your life today? Are there situations where it’s difficult to love, and how might faith help you respond differently?
How can we, as a faith community, celebrate our unique identities while also building bridges with others? What practices can help us grow in empathy and connection?