Kansas Mennonite pastor: Is it pacifist, or Paci-FIST? | Opinion

Pacifists are sometimes accused (rightly or wrongly) of being passive.

This all-too-common caricature of passive pacifists has led some of my pacifist friends to want to talk about being a Paci-FIST.

And yes, there once was a Mennonite Church basketball team with this name, with me playing the point guard position.

Our team name was chosen in good fun. No one was hurt (intentionally) with our fists. Yes, we put our skin in the game of basketball.

And we hope to do the same with our peacemaking.

The last time I wore this jersey was outside the National World War I Museum and Memorial in Kansas City, MO.

There, I gathered with a group of teenagers to discuss conscientious objection from a religious belief perspective.

We stood around the two memorial pavers that our Mennonite Church (and others) purchased in honor of those who have served this country and expressed their pride in this country through non-violent means, service, and sacrifice.

I hope more and more teens (and their parents and guardians) will pay attention as the United States government continues to make significant changes to the draft registration process.

For example, on Dec. 18, 2026, all males 18-25, both citizens and noncitizens, will be automatically registered for the draft using existing governmental databases.

Members of historic and current-day Peace Churches will hopefully be among those keeping a close watch on these changes.

Meanwhile, I plan to wear my PaciFIST jersey again today, and not for basketball reasons.

Instead, I’m going to wear it in honor of International Conscientious Objectors’ Day.

Established in 1985, May 15 is observed around the world in honor of those who refuse to take part in war or military service based on conscience, ethics, or religion.

If you see me around, feel free to say hello, preferably without any fists.

And for a poem:

‘Conscientious Objector’

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death.

I hear him leading his horse out of the stall; I hear the clatter on the barn-floor.

He is in haste; he has business in Cuba, business in the Balkans, many calls to make this morning.

But I will not hold the bridle while he clinches the girth.

And he may mount by himself: I will not give him a leg up.

Though he flick my shoulders with his whip, I will not tell him which way the fox ran.

With his hoof on my breast, I will not tell him where the black boy hides in the swamp.

I shall die, but that is all that I shall do for Death; I am not on his pay-roll.

I will not tell him the whereabout of my friends nor of my enemies either.

Though he promise me much, I will not map him the route to any man’s door.

Am I a spy in the land of the living, that I should deliver men to Death?

Brother, the password and the plans of our city are safe with me; never through me Shall you be overcome.

— Ruth Harder is pastor of Hope Mennonite Church in Wichita, and previously served as pastor at Rainbow Mennonite Church in Kansas City, Kan.