The challenge of money

In God, Money, and Me – Exploring the spiritual significance of money in our lives (2004), Edwin Friesen wrote: For various reasons, talking about how we personally manage money is frequently a social taboo. Some people struggle with overwhelming debt. Others feel unworthy of or burdened by their wealth. Still others feel entitled to what they have and don’t want to be challenged. We fear each other’s judgment as we voice our opinions. But talking about money with fellow believers will reduce its power over us. Together we can seek to put money in its place, a place where it serves as a tool for God’s purpose, not as a god that rules us. Friesen mainly focuses on individual financial choices in his 83-page booklet (published by the Mennonite Foundation of Canada, available from Everence). He acknowledges Christians’ traditional discomfort with amassing great wealth, summed up by 1 Timothy 6:9-10: “For the love of money is at the root of all kinds of evil. And some people, craving money, have wandered from the faith and pierced themselves with many sorrows.” And what about the three biblical passages that say, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God”? Yet we all need money, even if we’ve been warned not to love it, not to crave it, and to beware of being rich. So how to strike the right balance between meeting our needs – and those of others – without becoming obsessive about money and making it a false god? Here at 91����Ƶ, it took money to build this institution, with much of it coming from successful business people like Jacob A. Shenk, who attended Eastern Mennonite School in the 1920s, or from generous professionals, like eye surgeon Paul R. Yoder Jr. ’63. And it will take continued infusions of money – some of it arriving in large chunks and some of it tallied from many smaller donations – to enable 91����Ƶ to have the necessary facilities and financial aid to keep producing alumni who are doing good in all walks of life and professions. Friesen suggests that most of us need prophetic-spiritual voices, such as Mother Teresa with her vow of poverty, to encourage us “to ignore the all-pervasive cultural influences to buy and consume” and to instead “focus on sharing” and on one’s “relationships with God and others.” And yet Mother Teresa welcomed donations from supporters who had not taken her vow of poverty. For instance, she received $1.25 million from Charles Keating, a key player in the meltdown of the savings and loan associations of the 1980s, where about 23,000 customers (many of them retirees living on pensions) were left with worthless bonds. Asked to return the money to those from whom it had been stolen by Keating’s company, Mother Teresa declined to respond to the official request from a U.S. government lawyer. Yet she did send a letter advocating leniency for Keating when he was facing a prison sentence. In short, even Mother Teresa faced messy challenges in terms of money – where it came from and how it was ultimately used.

MEDA: Asking, and often answering, the hard questions

Pondering the sometimes-distant relationship between clergy and folks who generate profits, Canadian journalist John Longhurst wrote in The Marketplace, a bi-monthly published by Mennonite Economic Development Associates (MEDA): “Businesspeople may be reluctant to talk on Monday to someone who was preaching on Sunday about the evils of money, materialism and consumerism,” especially if “the only time some businesspeople expect to hear from their pastors is at budget time.” Longhurst wryly adds, “Money is the root of all evil until the annual fundraising campaign kicks in. An old adage about Christians and business goes: ‘If possible avoid getting into business; but if you do get into business, avoid making lots of money; but if you end up making lots of money, the church sure needs it.’” (The Marketplace, March/April 2011, p. 4) With views like Longhurst’s in the pages of MEDA’s Marketplace journal, clearly this organization is one place where Christians who know how to make money can find people like themselves – that is, businesspeople who are interested in linking their gifts for business and finance with their religious beliefs. Some advice in The Marketplace is not too different from that in motivational business books, such as an article in the March/April 2012 issue, published under the headline “Failure need not be fatal – When everything looks bleak, remember apostle Peter.” The piece described the writer’s experience with a business that went under despite its leaders’ best efforts. But other articles in The Marketplace pose questions that might be minimized or sidestepped in mainstream business periodicals, such as: (1) Is there a business model that addresses the needs of the bottom socio-economic third of our society? and (2) What are the downsides of businesses that go public? Stephen Kreider Yoder, a Mennonite who is the San Francisco bureau chief of the Wall Street Journal, gave his answer to the first question at a 2009 MEDA convention in San Jose, California: “The capitalism that flourishes so remarkably here in Silicon Valley isn’t always good at closing those [have vs. have-not] gaps.” The second question was addressed by David Steward, in excerpts from his book, Doing Business by the Good Book, in the May/June 2004 Marketplace: “The investment community can apply tremendous pressure to produce quarterly profits. This outside persuasion sometimes tempts management to think short-term, reduce expenditures, and forgo quality…. [T]he demand put on management for three-month gains isn’t necessarily good for a company’s long-term interests.” MEDA seems to enjoy cross-fertilizing thinkers who are sometimes at odds with each other, such as social-justice advocates and business leaders. In a provocative piece published in the May/June 2004 issue, two economists based at Bluffton University, James M. Harder and Karen Klassen Harder, deconstructed our common way of measuring economic performance, the Gross Domestic Product. “It is often mistakenly assumed that growth and development mean the same thing,” they wrote. “But growth does not guarantee development, nor does development necessarily require growth.” The Harders (a married couple) went on to explain: GDP calculations not only mask the breakdown of the environment, they actually portray that breakdown as gain. Much of what is routinely called growth is, in fact, merely the repair of past blunders. GDP “grows” when hazardous waste is produced and then “grows” some more when money is spent to clean up chemical contamination, purify water to make it drinkable, or treat cancers resulting from pollution. These economists argued that there are indeed limits to growth due to the finite supplies of most natural resources. “No business that wants to last can afford to ignore in its financial statements the depletion of its productive assets, yet that is precisely what the global economy is doing…. Disaster looms precisely because the current economic model has no built-in limits – no stopping point short of a crisis generated by environmental or social collapse.” The Harders asked us all – consumers as well as producers – to correct our myopic eyesight on this matter by embracing “smallness and local control.” “This will create manageable zones of mutual accountability and responsibility for self, others, and natural surroundings,” they wrote, adding that “the pendulum must swing back from the anonymous, individualistic global economy to renewed cooperation within strengthened local communities.”

Value-based alumni

Karen Gross ’75, a nursing grad, certainly embodies the small-scale approach to responsibility for self and others. She works as a nurse-practitioner one day a week, but the rest of the week she juggles three jobs in the business sector of Atlanta, Georgia. She was one of the founders of the first Ten Thousand Villages store in the Atlanta area 20 years ago. Like all stores bearing this name, this outlet is a non-profit enterprise to provide a living wage for artisans around the world who would otherwise be unemployed or under-employed. Gross handles the outlet’s finances – purchasing inventory, paying bills, and doing the payroll and taxes. She also runs “My Mama Had That,” an antique business in the suburb of Decatur, whereby she finds well-made vintage items at yard and estate sales and makes sure they get a second chance at life in somebody’s home. Finally, she helps with Sticky Business, a 12-employee enterprise that produces and installs graphics for vehicles, walls, and buildings. Karen’s husband, Joel Gross ’76, is CEO, but Karen took over reviewing the balance sheets and income statements, plus managing receivables and payables, after the business had a bout with embezzlement. “My home, church, and education at 91����Ƶ, all stressed values of commitment, integrity, and stewardship of not just one’s money, but also life work and time,” Karen told Crossroads, by way of explaining the common threads in all four of her jobs. Karen is also active in Berea Mennonite Church. In the Shenandoah Valley, Billy Leap ’86, CPA, is chief financial officer for Bowman Fruit Sales, a 450-employee apple-focused company owned by a local businessman. Leap had the opportunity – in fact, he experienced the opportunity for 18 months – of being part of a much larger enterprise, Bowman Andros Products, a subsidiary of Andros et Cie headquartered in France, whose U.S. operations are outside Harrisonburg. But Leap decided to return to doing the finances for a businessman whom he knew well, Gordon D. “Sonny” Bowman II. Under the name of Turkey Knob Apples, Bowman is responsible for the largest number of apples grown and marketed in Virginia and is No. 1 or 2 in the east for apple production. For Leap – a self-described “Valley boy”– he derives great satisfaction out of knowing each permanent employee, dealing with local banks, analyzing reports to make recommendations to “Sonny,” and driving past trees that grow the Bowman apples on his way to work in Timberville, Virginia, right beside the 35,000-square foot packing house. This is not just a place Leap works; it’s his second home. ¹ Kevin Longenecker ’91, a CPA who is the chief financial officer at InterChange Group (“warehousing logistics and development”) in Harrisonburg, appreciates the collegiality of working in a locally owned business with 135 employees, where all six of the management team members are alumni of 91����Ƶ. “Devon Anders [company president, ’88 accounting grad] has never – and would never – ask me to do something unethical. Our corporate culture is influenced by Anabaptist values. In a small, privately held company like this, it’s possible to take the longer view in building shareholder value, since we’re not pressured to deliver quarterly performance on the stock market.”

Longenecker’s father ran a small retail store near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, when he was growing up – which is where he got his foundational lessons in how to approach work, treat employees, and make decisions with integrity. Thequestion, “Why do we do what we do?” was always in the air. And the answer was not simply: “We do it for the bottom line.” In Leola, Pennsylvania, Thomas Verghese ’71 runs his own insurance and financial services firm (with the help of assistant Rebecca Bucher ’86). Verghese took the unusual step of topping off an MBA earned at James Madison University in 1974 with a year back at his undergraduate alma mater, studying at Eastern Mennonite Seminary (EMS). “Faith and values are paramount in my dealings with my clients. My training at EMC, the year at EMS, my church (Forest Hills Mennonite), and the faith community that I am a part of have provided me with a sound foundation upon which to live and work.” Specifically, as an “independent agent” who can pick and choose among products offered by various companies, Verghese says he takes care to “make sure that the recommendations I make to my prospects and clients are in their best interests in terms of suitability, cost, quality of the product, as well as timing.” Andrew “Andy” Dula ’91 is the CFO/COO of EG Stoltzfus, a construction company based in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, with 25 subsidiary companies. He is also chair of 91����Ƶ’s board of trustees, a volunteer position.

In a 2010 speech to the MEDA chapter in Lancaster, Dula spoke of his life journey, starting with his birth in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. His parents are of mixed race and nationality of birth, father being brown Ethiopian and mother being white American. Their marriage in the Mennonite Church of Ethiopia was “no small feat in the ’60s,” Dula said wryly in his talk, which is posted on the 91����Ƶ website. Dula traced his post-collegiate journey through a short-lived family restaurant venture to the drafting and design department of Elam G Stoltzfus Jr Inc. where he carried 4×8 sheets of plywood on a framing crew the first day and huddled over a drafting table the next. Though Dula is now one of five officers in the company’s leadership team, he stressed: “Titles mean nothing to us. Our founder never liked them, nor do I, nor the rest of the senior management staff. Titles merely identify our structure to those outside of the organization. “We believe in a flat non-hierarchical structure, which empowers persons to unleash their own entrepreneurial spirit at all levels of the operation.” Dula focused his MEDA talk on the question of who we are as human beings, rather than what we do, though naturally we manifest our true selves through our work. “Like many people in business, I live in a world of doing, producing, constructing, expanding and sometimes just surviving,” he said. “We are often judged by financial metrics and measurable results, as in, ‘What have you done for me lately?’ “In the larger scheme of things, however, a more important question is, ‘Who am I becoming?’”

For Dula, what truly counts are the “stories of making just choices, going the extra mile, treating employees as partners, emphasizing our interconnectedness instead of untamed individualism, and practicing moderation instead of excess,” adding that these “are part of who I am becoming, rather than anything I am doing.” C. Conrad Martin ’80 returned to his home state of Pennsylvania in 2001 after spending 12 years working in Africa (Tanzania) and Asia (Bangladesh) on accounting, microfinance, and job-creation projects for several church-affiliated organizations. Along the way, in 1991, he earned a master’s degree in economic development. After his return to the United States, Martin discovered a fellow graduate from his era, Josephine Histand ’81, who had gone on to get an MBA and to work for the Ford Motor Company. “It was an online match. We overlapped a couple of years at 91����Ƶ – I avoided the library and she lived in the library, so we didn’t meet then,” he says with amusement in his voice. The two married in 2001, and she now works as an environmental engineer consultant. “My philosophy has always been that I feel best when I am where God wants me to be,” he says. “The common thread [for all of his jobs] is that I was working for the church. I have liked whatever setting I was in. I am not looking to be a CEO of a non-profit. My first priority is to be of service to the church.” Today he is director of finance for Franconia Mennonite Conference, handling a budget of approaching $1 million annually. He and Josephine attend Blooming Glen Mennonite Church. Like Conrad Martin, John Hess-Yoder ’74 spent a chunk of his young adult years living and working in foreign locales – two years in Laos and three years in Brazil under Mennonite Central Committee. He then pastored a Mennonite church in Oregon for three years before deciding to enter the financial planning arena. Hess-Yoder is a Certified Financial Planner, plus he holds a law degree earned through night school. The CFP is not a one-shot deal, Hess-Yoder explains. “You have to do special ethical training per year and you have to sign ethical guidelines. You can be censured by them [the Organization of Financial Planners, which confers the CFP] for quite a few things that regulators cannot get you for.” If Hess-Yoder were a customer seeking a financial planner, he says one of his first questions would be, “How independent are you?” He would not be comfortable with planners who receive commissions or extra compensation based on promoting certain funds, including in-house ones. “My best relationships are fee-based,” he says, in the manner that a lawyer is paid a fee for a specific service rendered. He adds, however, that some clients opt to have him compensated on a commission basis, which may save them money under certain circumstances. An up-and-coming associate of Hess-Yoder, Kyle Mast ’07, hopes to pass his CFP exam in the summer of 2013. Like Hess-Yoder, he prizes being an independent financial advisor: “I am not tied to anyone’s investment products. I can offer what I believe is best to my client, no matter what.” Mast says that half of his clients ask him to help them choose “socially responsible investments” (SRI) – though these entail higher management fees because of the labor that goes into carefully screening companies – and half simply want him to focus on investments that are likely to have the best returns.

Mast credits Everence, the financial-services arm of Mennonite Church USA, with doing one of the best jobs of screening companies: “There aren’t many who do the due diligence that Everence does,” he says. The current “hot button” among his SRI-focused clients who are Mennonites? Avoiding companies associated with arms manufacturing and marketing. Larry Nolt ’65, an investment manager with National Penn Bank Shares headquartered in Allentown, Pennsylvania, says “fiduciary advisor” is a term coming into vogue. The word “fiduciary” highlights the difference between those professionals who are legally obligated to put the needs and interests of their clients first – such as chartered financial planners, chartered financial consultants, and chartered financial analysts – and others. Stockbrokers, for example, usually work on high commissions, benefit from frequent transactions (whether necessary or not), and receive outside incentives, such as trips paid by the companies whose funds they sell. Nolt suggests that prospective clients of financial services ask for “full disclosure” regarding how their advisors or planners will be compensated for their work. It may be difficult to tease out hidden charges, such as those that may be contained in insurance policies or annuities. Remember, he says, “if a product or investment sounds too good to be true, it probably is. I wouldn’t go there.” Just as most of us need to partner with healthcare professionals to stay healthy, Nolt believes that the average person needs the expertise of a well-trained, highly ethical financial advisor to manage their money. And even these advisors can get it wrong. “Almost all of us [in the field] were buffaloed by Enron,” he says. You have to have strong regulatory bodies keeping watch, he adds, “because the crooks always move to the latest area of de-regulation.” Part of the beauty of living a “discipled life” as a Christian, and as a member of a church community, says Nolt, is receiving help to curb the human tendency to take advantage of situations and to reach for the utmost profit, regardless of the cost to our fellow humans. “I view business as an agent for extending God’s providential care to humankind,” says Spencer Cowles, PhD, chair of 91����Ƶ’s business and economics department. “Business is simply a way of producing and distributing the things we need. Making a profit is a means to that end. “As a stockholder, I want my companies to do well financially, but I also want them to contribute to the social good.” If there was a common thread among the dozens of interviews conducted for this issue of Crossroads, it was this: We are called to be stewards of our resources, financial and otherwise, rather than being heedless gamblers with them; we must always consider the wider impact of the financial decisions we make. — Bonnie Price Lofton, MA ’04 1. Leap has a “Valley family.” His wife, Renée ’85, is associate director of 91����Ƶ’s financial assistance office; his elder son, Mitchell, is a 2012 graduate of 91����Ƶ, and his second son, Parker, is a sophomore at 91����Ƶ. The family worships at Harrisonburg Mennonite Church.

“I was already accepted to Howard University right here in D.C.,” Grandison Hill said in recent interviews with two 91����Ƶ writers. “But my father knew I was hanging with the party crowd, and I’d be doomed academically if I went with my friends across town to Howard.”

Hill’s parents had learned about EMC from relatives living in Luray, Va., “a hoot and a holler” from Harrisonburg. “My uncle was a master barber in Luray. He and my aunt knew black folks in Harrisonburg, who knew what kind of folks they [the Mennonites at EMC] were.” Bingo! The Hills were seeking “a Christian experience without social distractions.”

Jolting adjustment, but no quitting

The academic and socio-cultural scene Hill found when he arrived on the Harrisonburg campus was a jolting cross-cultural experience for a city-raised African-American teen. He had a girlfriend back home, a love of dance parties, and a repertoire of easy-flowing curse words from the usual trash-talking on D.C. basketball courts.

In 1962 at EMC, the percentage of white Mennonite students easily ran into the 90s, typically from rural backgrounds. Hill was one of four U.S.-born black students enrolled in EMC, based on photos in that year’s Shenandoah yearbook. All faculty men were required to wear plain coats; all faculty women, the prayer covering and very modest dresses. Males and females did not publicly hold hands. Chapel attendance was mandatory every school day.

Now a successful trial lawyer in D.C., Hill stayed at EMC only one year. “My pillow was wet many a night,” Hill recalls, loath to disappoint his parents who had made huge financial sacrifices to put him at EMC. “My mother’s theme song was, “We don’t quit.”

Hill was the first-born of three sons, raised in a home headed by education-oriented parents who brought home middle-class salaries for those times. Howard University was six blocks from his home. “I walked through campus when going to junior high and to my favorite public swimming pool.” Next door was Arthur Paul Davis, a famed literary figure who taught at Howard and had earned his PhD in English from Columbia University. As a boy, Hill saw luminaries of the Harlem Renaissance – James Baldwin, Langston Hughes, Gwendolyn Brooks – relaxing on Davis’ front porch. Another neighbor was Thomas H. Countee Sr., the first African-American to get a PhD in physics (earned at a Dutch university, as Hill recalls).

Preparing for success

In short, Hill was surrounded by upwardly climbing folks who were preparing their children to continue to challenge racial barriers. Hill’s father was a businessman and employee of the U.S. department of defense; his mother managed a D.C. playground. When Hill said he hoped to become a basketball coach, his father angrily made it clear that Mom and Dad weren’t working themselves to death for such an aspiration. The Hill boys had just three options – to be a physician, dentist or lawyer. (Two ended up as attorneys, the other a dentist.)

The summer before Hill arrived at EMC, his father had scraped together the money to send him for six weeks to one of the best private schools in D.C., St. Albans, an Episcopal school that catered to well-to-do boys from (almost always) white families.

Hill took calculus and made friends with the son of a Swedish embassy official. “The academic experience at St. Albans was so tremendous. It was a great experience – the guys at St. Albans accepted me. It was so relaxed and so much fun – they didn’t have that religious thing on them.” St. Albans offered Hill the option of enrolling in a post-secondary school year, which he desperately wanted to do. But it was beyond the financial means of his family; EMC was viewed as his next-best option.

Among Mennonite boys in Brunk

Hill dormed in the Brunk House adjacent to campus with a six Mennonite guys from various class years, with last names of Good, Driver, Ranck, Clymer, Reed. “We all had separate rooms and studied a lot. Many had part-time jobs. One guy would return from his job around sun-up and wake the whole house with a booming, ‘Good morning, world!’” By mid-fall, Hill was on the varsity basketball team.

Hill recalls “many impressive speakers” at daily chapels, which were different in style from his family’s Methodist church. “The first time I heard a cappella singing, tears literally rolled down my face. I had to pinch my eyes to keep from making a scene. I was stunned how beautiful it was.”

After chapel, came the highlight of Hill’s day: a cafeteria meal served family-style, three girls, three guys to a table, assigned randomly by number. “There was a rhythm and ritual to it, standing until all arrived, the saying of grace, the singing of a song, the passing of the bread to the right, the filling of water glasses. And then the pleasant conversation, getting acquainted around the table, each day learning to know a new set of students. By the end of the year, everyone on campus knew each other. And the food, like my parents promised, was always excellent.”

Encountering racism

Dean of men Alphie Zook had counseled Hill when he arrived on campus, “Not everyone here will welcome you. Unfortunately, you may encounter some racism.”

One racist encounter happened on a Saturday, when meals were not served family-style. After a morning studying in his room, Hill went to the cafeteria for lunch. He sat down with his tray at a convenient table where several other students had gathered. Conversation at that end of the table stopped when a guy diagonally across from Hill interjected, “You should be eating that meal on the back porch.”

Hill felt his anger rise to within a scintilla of striking back. “I thought how disappointed my parents would be if I was kicked out for fighting. I calmly laid my fork on the tray. I locked gazes with the guy, neither of us said a word. Eventually he looked away. I picked up my fork and continued eating.”

Other painful memories: The time a student got up and left when Hill came to a non-assigned table. Overhearing someone say, “What the h..l is he doing here?” when he walked by. Being called a “n….r” by a child in the presence of his Mennonite parents, who said nothing. A female student who met his eyes as they passed on campus, but seemed fearful of saying “hi.”

Getting support too

Yet Hill also experienced inter-racial solidarity. He described a time when he and a few schoolmates went downtown to see a movie, an activity that was then against school rules for everyone. “After we’d bought our tickets, the manager told the rest of the group, ‘You can sit in the regular seats, but he has to sit in the balcony.’ They all decided to join me in the balcony. 91����Ƶ ten minutes later, the manager appeared upstairs, saying there’s an official from EMC downstairs looking for us. And he showed us a side door to exit. I knew he was lying, but we all left on the slim chance we’d be caught.”

The one place Hill could relax was playing sports, especially basketball on a team that traveled to play games at Goshen College in Indiana and Messiah College in Pennsylvania. He recalls two Yoder brothers, Paul R. Jr. ’63 (now a local eye surgeon) and N. Wayne ’66 (now a psychotherapist based in Florida), as tough competitors with serious talent.

One time in chapel, Paul helped Hill to navigate a cross-cultural snafu. “I was sitting at the back and someone up front said something that caused everyone to stand, look straight back at me, and kneel down with their elbows on their seats. This caught me totally by surprise. They’re all looking at me. Paul locked his eyes with mine and let me know I needed to do what he was doing.” (This method of praying is no longer practiced in modern Mennonite churches.)

EMC had a handful of students from Kenya and Tanganyika in 1963. “The international students from Africa didn’t know what to think of me; I was so different from them. And the average Mennonite kid had never been around a black guy on a daily basis. Should I act friendly or keep him at arm’s length? Or just treat him as a human being? For my part, I tried to never offend, to keep a smile on my face and be open to conversation.”

At first the coursework was tough for him. “Most of the Mennonite students were well prepared for the seriousness of the studies. I had to really buckle down and study hard. But I moved fast on an upward learning curve.”

Meeting the Lord

Hill’s biggest take-away, however, wasn’t in the academic realm. “It was here that I met the Lord. It was a combination of things that got me thinking. Everywhere I turned I’d find more evidence of the resurrection. The guys had an early morning prayer group. It wasn’t a devotional thing as much as learning from scripture, reading the stories in a deeper way. And coming to my own conclusion – He’s real!”

Before Christmas break 1962, Grandison Hill returned from class to his room to discover a box on his desk. He opened it to find a King James Bible, and inside the simple inscription, “The Brunk House.”

Despite meeting “many genuinely good people who did a lot to make me feel comfortable,” Hill felt lonely away from “my own people.” Bringing along his new Bible in the fall of 1963, he transferred to Virginia Union University, whose roots go back to the end of the Civil War, when the American Baptist Home Mission Society started offering classes to African Americans emerging from slavery. At Virginia Union, with a Baptist seminary at the heart of its campus, Hill got much of what his family liked about EMC, without the racial and cultural issues – “Virginia Union was small and everybody knew you and nurtured you – there was no foolishness or you would be sent home.” He majored in biology and minored in chemistry, then taught middle-school math for three years in his home city before going to Howard University’s School of Law on a full scholarship.

For more than half of his life, Hill has practiced as a civil and criminal defense trial lawyer, admitting he is addicted to the drama of jury trials. His home way from home is D.C. Superior Court. At 69, he is tempted to “reduce the case load a bit. But a serious jury trial is thrilling. You just never know the outcome; it’s so much fun with so many surprises.”

He has these lingering questions from his year at EMC: “Did anybody get anything from me? From their experience meeting me? Did it open anybody’s mind?

For more information about the history of African Americans at 91����Ƶ, see these stories and podcast:

“Take the First Step in Faith: A History of Inclusion at 91����Ƶ” – podcast featuring Mark Metzler Sawin

“My parents always tithed, plus,” says Paul, referring to giving more than the biblical standard of 10 percent of one’s income. “They were farmers when I was growing up… I remember them borrowing money to support the missionaries until their wheat check came in.” After Paul’s father stopped farming in mid-life, he shifted to pastoring and then (late in life) to fundraising for 91����Ƶ (91����Ƶ).

Carol’s parents were also farmers and they too tithed religiously. “In every way, we’ve been blessed,” she says. “How can we not give?”

Paul cites a favorite quotation: “It is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.”

After 48 years of marriage, these 1963 graduates of 91����Ƶ exude a sense of comfortable companionship. They wait respectfully in joint conversations, making space for the other to wrap up his or her set of sentences, before offering a new thought.

He is an eye surgeon; she used to be an operating room nurse. They live in a large all-brick house on a hill overlooking their own lake on the outskirts of Harrisonburg. But the Yoders’ demeanor is unassuming—one could almost see each of them helping with haying or hanging out the laundry, way back when.

After decades of quietly funneling large sums to many worthy projects in the Harrisonburg area—and to some outside of the region—Carol and Paul have at last  allowed themselves to be publicly recognized this year as the “Philanthropists of the Year” by the Shenandoah chapter of the Association of Fundraising Professionals.

What induced them to step into the spotlight? “We do understand the power of examples of philanthropy in encouraging others to give,” says Yoder. “And we are finally off all of the local boards on which we have served.”

When one or the other of them was on the governing committee of Rockingham Memorial Hospital, Eastern Mennonite High School, 91����Ƶ, Park View Church, Virginia Mission Board and a local bank, the Yoders felt that “detractors might say we were using our positions for personal gain or power—to push our own agenda.” They also wanted their two daughters—Liesel and Nicole—to be able to blend into the student population at their Mennonite schools and colleges, rather than being perceived as offspring of one of the institutions’ underwriters. So they simply gave without fanfare.

The Yoders began their lifelong commitment to cross-cultural service when they went to Nepal in 1968. Needing to do alternative service as a conscientious objector during the Vietnam War, Paul chose to work as a newly minted physician—he was between his internship and residency—under the United Mission to Nepal. When Carol and Paul returned home in three years later, they were carrying Liesel, adopted in Nepal.

91����Ƶ a decade later—after Paul’s practice was established and their children were in elementary school—Carol read a book about Medical Ministry International (MMI), which had begun with a small group of volunteer eye surgeons. Paul and Carol signed on and have been on at least one service trip per year for a quarter of a century.

Paul explains the ripple effects of the program: “We started going to Ethiopia six years ago. We met two Ethiopian doctors in their first year of surgical residency—they came to us and said they wanted to be ophthalmologists. We [MMI] sent them to the Dominican Republic for a four-and-a-half-year training program. Then they went back and we helped them set up a clinic. The next time I went to Ethiopia, I was assisting them!”

Carol explains that “MMI serves the world’s poor by trying to lay the groundwork for lasting solutions to their lack of medical care.”

Though fit and active, both Yoders feel that it is time at age 70 to step aside from almost all of their public responsibilities, making room for a younger generation to step up. Paul enjoys running, golf, tennis and skiing. Carol ran miles daily until age 69 and now simply walks strenuously. The secret of their robust health? “You just have to keep moving,” says Carol.

Paul is a member of 91����Ƶ’s Commission for the Sciences, which is leading an initiative to renovate and enlarge the Suter Science Center.

The one-day event included a tour of the Harvard Medical School facilities in Boston, Mass., and the , a collaborative research effort of Harvard, Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the Broad Family Foundation, in Cambridge.

Historic gathering

“This is a historic gathering,” said President Loren Swartzendruber, DMin (91����Ƶ ’76 and ’79) in his opening comments. “Never before has such a diverse group of leaders – alumni who have achieved great success in their fields along with business, industry, science and other leaders – come together to think about something this big and transformational for 91����Ƶ.”

Harvard Dean on 91����Ƶ

“My time at 91����Ƶ was most formative in my personal and professional journey,” said Dr. Martin, reflecting on the year he took off from the University of Alberta to study Bible and ethics at then Eastern Mennonite College. “The opportunity to study ethics and broaden my horizons beyond my small Mennonite community proved invaluable.” He noted that the collaboration occurring at 91����Ƶ and with these leaders was similar to the collaboration that had to occur for the Harvard Medical School expansion under his tenure.

91����Ƶ accepted Dr. Martin’s invitation to host the gathering because “it seemed important to us to see what can happen when people who are well trained in the sciences have facilities in which they can thrive,” said President Loren Swartzendruber.

“Dr. Martin is one example of hundreds of 91����Ƶ science alumni who are making a real difference in this world. While these facilities are not a scale to which 91����Ƶ aspires, we do believe that new labs and a renovated building at the appropriate scale, can facilitate our ongoing exceptional program.”

91����Ƶ’s current Suter Science Center, built more than 40 years ago, “does not do justice to the quality of faculty and program of study we offer,” he said.

Leadership phase

91����Ƶ is currently in the leadership phase of its campaign for the new and renovated science facilities at 91����Ƶ, noted Kirk Shisler (91����Ƶ ’81), vice president for advancement. It is a time to focus on lead gifts toward the anticipated $30 million needed to complete two phases. The first phase will include construction of a new 50,000 square foot lab facility to better support the collaborative original research 91����Ƶ science students complete with professors; renovation of the existing Suter Science Center will follow.

“We are in a time of burgeoning potential,” said Shisler, noting that as 91����Ƶ has ramped up communications about the campaign, spontaneous unsolicited gifts are coming in for the campaign.

While these gifts are encouraging and exciting, and currently total nearly $2 million in gifts and pledges, the focus of the day’s gathering was on establishing momentum toward gifts in the top tier of the strategic funding plan, gifts and commitments in the $500,000 to $10 million range.

Broad Institute tour

The afternoon’s visit to the Broad Institute of MIT and Harvard provided an opportunity for participants to see the country’s top collaborative multidisciplinary research facility. The group heard about the institute’s vision and structures, and a presentation by geneticist Stacey Gilbert, PhD, about her genetic research among Mennonite populations in Lancaster County, Pa.

Open floor plans, glass walls, entire walls and glass office windows that serve as “white boards,” and community space all inspire creativity, innovation and collaboration, explained Michael Foley, PhD, director of the chemical biology platform at Broad. “We’re here to help you in whatever way we can as you plan your facility,” he told the group.

Closing comments

The recent announcement that President Loren Swartzendruber has accepted an invitation to a third four-year term in his role as president is good news for this project as affirmed by Dr. Martin, 91����Ƶ trustee Dr. Paul R. Yoder, Jr., (’65) and 91����Ƶ board chair Andrew Dula (’92). Each of them noted the integrity with which President Swartzendruber serves, the level of trust in his leadership, and the momentum he and his team have established for the campaign.

Acknowledging their supportive comments, Swartzendruber noted, “Bringing this campaign to a successful conclusion is my number one goal for these next four years.”

In the photo:

First row, left to right: Greta Ann Herin, PhD, 91����Ƶ associate professor of biology; Provost Fred Kniss, PhD (91����Ƶ ’79); Dr. Todd Weaver (91����Ƶ ’87), Weaver, Reckner, Reinhart Dental Associates; 91����Ƶ trustee Anne Kaufman Weaver (91����Ƶ 88), leadership coach, Coaching Connection, Brownstown, Pa.; Joe Paxton, county administrator, Rockingham County, Va.; Phil Helmuth (91����Ƶ ’76) executive director of development for; Carol Yoder, (91����Ƶ ’63 ) civic leader/ volunteer; Charlotte Rosenberger (91����Ƶ ’65) civic leader/volunteer, Blooming Glen, Pa.; Pat Swartzendruber, 91����Ƶ advocate and church-wide leader.

Second row, left to right: Doug Mason, advancement consultant, Gonser, Gerber, Tinker, Stuhr, LLP, Naperville, Ill.; 91����Ƶ trustee Evon Bergey, general manager, Magellan Health Services, Perkasie, Pa.; Dr. Krishna Kodukula, executive director, CADRE, Biosciences Division, SRI Shenandoah Valley; Dr. Joseph B. Martin (91����Ƶ ’59), dean emeritus and professor of neurobiology, Harvard Medical School; John “Roc” Rocovich, Jr., attorney, Moss & Rocovich and founder and chairman of Edward Via Virginia College of Osteopathic Medicine, Blacksburg, Va.; 91����Ƶ President Loren Swartzendruber, DMin (91����Ƶ ’76 and ’79); Joyce Bontrager Lehman (91����Ƶ ’65), program officer, Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, Seattle, Wash.; Bob Hostetler, PhD (91����Ƶ ’59), campaign co-chair, professor emeritus mathematics, Pennsylvania State University;  Gerry Horst, campaign co-chair and president, Horst & Sons, Inc., New Holland, Pa.; Kirk Shisler (91����Ƶ ’81), vice president for advancement;  Laura Daily, assistant for advancement.

Third row, left to right: Doug Hostetler, Hostetler & Church, LLC, Clarksville, Md.; Roman Miller, PhD, 91����Ƶ professor of biology/Daniel B. Suter Endowed Chair, Doug Graber Neufeld, PhD, 91����Ƶ professor of biology; Mark Grimaldi (91����Ƶ ’94), president of Equinox Chemical Company, Albany, Ga.; Andrew Dula (91����Ƶ ’91), chair, 91����Ƶ Board of Trustees and CFO,  EG Stoltzfus Inc.; 91����Ƶ trustee Kay Nussbaum (91����Ƶ ’78), partner, The MVP Group, of White Bear Lake, Minn.; Henry Rosenberger (91����Ƶ ’67) farmer and sustainability entrepreneur; Dr. Paul R. Yoder, Jr. (91����Ƶ ’63) Rockingham Eye Physicians, Harrisonburg, Va., and 91����Ƶ trustee; Knox Singleton, CEO Inova Health Systems, Falls Church, Va.

Paul R. Yoder, Sr., a long-time advocate for 91����Ƶ, died Tuesday, Nov. 29, at Rockingham Memorial Hospital in Harrisonburg. He was 89.

A native of Elverson, Pa., Yoder, was a farmer 15 years before entering the ministry. He was pastor of Huber Mennonite Church, New Carlisle, Ohio, and Bay Shore Mennonite Church, Sarasota, Fla. He was also interim pastor two years of Ridgeway Mennonite Church, Harrisonburg.

Yoder was associate in at 91����Ƶ, 1986-1998, and served on the steering committee of the , an 91����Ƶ athletic support group, at the time of his death.

"Paul had a remarkable passion for 91����Ƶ and a love for youth that grew out of his children’s educational experience at 91����Ƶ. said , executive director of and director of church relations at 91����Ƶ. "Paul was an effective representative of the university at Mennonite conference annual assemblies, as a fundraiser to states west of the Mississippi, WEMC radio in the local community and as a long-term volunteer to Loyal Royals."

On Aug. 19, 1939, he married the former Grace Wingard, who survives.

Also surviving are four sons – Paul R. Yoder, Jr., a member of the 91����Ƶ board of trustees; N. Wayne Yoder, , professor of at 91����Ƶ; and Larry E. Yoder; their spouses, 10 grandchildren, four step-grandchildren and eight great-grandchildren. Yoder was the last surviving member of his immediate family.

A memorial service was held Dec. 3 at Harrisonburg Mennonite Church, where Yoder was a member.

Memorial contributions may be made to the Paul R. and Grace Yoder Endowment Fund , Harrisonburg, VA 22802.