If you had to choose, would you rather attend a protest or volunteer at a food pantry? 

Sociologist Robert Putnam has a lot to say about volunteering and protesting. In his book “Bowling Alone,” he outlines the decrease in all sorts of community engagement – civic, religious, and political – that the U.S. has seen since 1970. Many of these rates are tied together; that is, those that attend church are also most likely to participate in civic organizations and most likely to volunteer. Since the book was published in 2000, volunteering rates have only continued to decline, but participation in political protests has seen a dramatic rise in the last decade.

Let me rephrase my initial question: Is it more counter-cultural today to attend a protest, perhaps landing a well-articulated critique of capitalist and neo-colonial structures, or to regularly volunteer, showing up week after week within flawed but promising existing systems, making a sustained, intentional effort at incremental and tangible improvements? As I reflect on my own actions, I can say for myself that it feels more emotionally dangerous to, say, talk to an unhoused person or show up at a new community club, than it does to go to a protest, where I know my perspective will generally be shared. Fellow activists speak a critical language that I’m already comfortable with and don’t tend to challenge my preconceived notions about the world.

As Anabaptists, we’re called to radically follow Christ and live dangerously by making sacrifices for our faith. Sacrifice means giving up some degree of comfort and control – two things that are notably difficult to let go of.

As a generation, we have been taught about systemic injustice perhaps more than any before us. We understand too well the complexities of intersecting harms and intergenerational trauma. Our challenge, then, is learning how to navigate the challenges of everyday life without becoming paralyzed by our own awareness.

It is true that dramatic systemic changes are needed in our country to bring justice and peace to a broken world. However, I question what our role as Anabaptists should be in this moment. Perhaps it is worth revisiting and adapting the old quaint phrase for North American Anabaptists as “the quiet in the land.” What would it look like for Mennonites to be increasingly known for both a strong voice of political conviction and a quiet dedication to volunteerism, to civic society, to ballot drives and election poll working, and to churches that are integrated with their community? In many of these areas, our tradition already has a strong history of putting our hands where our hearts are. Still, I worry that we are letting our tradition slip through our fingers, as we grasp instead for practices that keep us insulated rather than challenged.

In Jesus, we have a model of someone who was not afraid to discuss politics in unexpected places and who was determined to air the grievances of the poor and the weak. I am grateful to be part of a community that truly does embody these qualities of Jesus. On the other hand, Jesus also dined with agents of the state (tax collectors), spent time with the sick and dying, and worshiped in religious institutions, despite his own critiques of the system and constant rejection by his peers. And in these situations, he transformed lives not solely by condemning the existing system, but by developing meaningful relationships, having good conversations, and asking hard questions about what it means to live a good and moral life.

It takes maturity, self-awareness, and patience to find a balance between relational change and systemic change. Jesus walked this line artfully. He brought politics into his community, and community into his politics. But at the end of the day, when people asked about salvation, he never wavered from speaking explicitly about the importance of transforming one’s self in relationship to others.

Is it surprising and provocative that the most dangerous thing we can do to live into our faiths is not shout louder, but listen harder? Yes, perhaps; but then again, maybe it has always been easier to talk about change than to open ourselves up to transformation.