The 'real Steinbach' isn't as Mennonite as it once was. How the city is surprising people
Residents say perception Steinbach is conservative, closed-off doesn't reflect Manitoba city's modern reality
Andrew Unger remembers crossing paths with someone in Winnipeg who figured his trip from Steinbach to the big city must have been a vacation, rather than a quick and simple day trip.
"Maybe that's sort of symbolic of how people feel about Steinbach in general, or their knowledge of it," said Unger, who writes satire poking fun at Mennonite life at his website the Unger Review (formerly known as the Daily Bonnet).
"They think that not only is it geographically quite far away, but that it's far away in a lot of other ways."
The city of 18,000 people — which is actually only about 50 kilometres southeast of Winnipeg — is still perceived by many Manitobans as overwhelmingly Mennonite and socially conservative.
A belief lingers that Steinbach's views are out-of-step with an increasingly secular society that sometimes treats Manitoba's third-largest city as an oddity when some subjects — from mandatory vaccinations to gay rights — bubble up in the news.
The pandemic didn't help. Steinbach struggled with a relatively low vaccination rate compared to many other parts of Manitoba, and anti-restriction protests in the southeastern Manitoba city seemed to validate assumptions it was a haven for those ideas, Unger said.
"The exact same rallies took place in Winnipeg, and when that happens very few people are saying, 'Well, that represents the community,'" he said.
"Believe it or not, there's individual people in Steinbach that are very progressive or want to see changes in Steinbach and are working hard toward those things," said Unger.
"The community as a whole probably changes slower than other places, but it is still changing. That's undeniable."
Steinbach Mayor Earl Funk prefers to focus on reflecting that change, rather than getting too worked up about what others say of his city.
"I continue to work to get the story out. I do what I can to portray the Steinbach I know, and the changes I've seen."
He notes that at the very same time one anti-mask rally was going on in the city, volunteers in Steinbach were out rallying in another way: collecting donations for health-care workers overwhelmed by COVID-19 patients. More than $7,000 in gift cards was handed out.
"That was the real Steinbach," Funk said, "and that came through loud and clear with the donations that were given."
Changing with the times
Built by Mennonites who came to Canada more than a century ago in search of religious freedom, Steinbach is rooted in and influenced by faith. That's evidenced by the city's high number of churches (22, which works out to one place of worship for every 820 people or so) and a data analysis that shows Steinbach residents give more of their income to charity than anywhere else in Canada.
But as time presses on, the city is growing, diversifying and becoming more secular.
Immigrants now make up 21 per cent of Steinbach's population, with the majority of newer arrivals coming from the Philippines, India and Nigeria, according to census data. That data also says one-fifth of city residents hold no religious belief.
Restaurateur Neville Hamilton, originally from Jamaica, is used to seeing surprise when he says he lives in Steinbach.
"They think Steinbach is a community that doesn't invite or welcome [racialized] people," said Hamilton, who is Black.
"And I could see … where people would think that way, but when you get to know Steinbach people and they get to actually see who you are and what you're going to contribute, they all will come and embrace you."
His ties to the people of Steinbach stretch back decades, even though he only moved to the city seven years ago. As a teenager, he was a chauffeur when Mennonites from Steinbach would visit Jamaica on mission trips to help build or repair schools, churches and the homes of elderly people. Those visitors sold him on the Manitoba city.
When he and his family moved to Steinbach, he was surprised not by the many churches but by the diversity, which "adds some spice, if you wanna say that," he says with a smile.
He devotes his energies now to supporting newcomers. He runs a Jamaican restaurant, organizes activities that bring racialized youth together and is hosting a winter reggae festival this weekend.
Faith in the city
And there are more and more newcomers for people like Hamilton to help in the city.
In 20 years, Steinbach's population has nearly doubled, driven largely by immigration. Since the late 1990s, the biggest employers — a window manufacturer, a pharmaceutical company and a hog processing plant — have recruited heavily from overseas. Others have followed the new workers.
Even so, estimates are that more than half of the city is still Mennonite, whether culturally or religiously.
Adherents to that Anabaptist faith say they don't feel threatened by the city's evolution, but welcome it, in part, because of their religion.
"I think the role faith plays is in relationships now," said Mayor Funk, whose day job is running a butcher shop.
"We don't have to stand out in the street and ring a bell and evangelize, right?" he said. "What we do every day can be our worship."
Faith will likely remain an influential aspect of life in Steinbach for a lot of people, Unger said.
"I don't think that will ever go away, nor do I think it needs to, but I think it'll evolve, as it has in the past."
The city's evolution came as a surprise to Kim Holmes, a now-retired child welfare worker who moved to the city in 2008 for work.
Her Christian faith is a driving force in her life — she holds a Bible her grandson describes as "old and wrecked," with a fraying cover and a spine that hangs loose, which she says is "a sign that it's being used."
"If you see a Bible that looks perfect, it's probably not being opened."
Despite her faith, she was reluctant to make the move to a city she initially thought was too slow, with not enough to do.
"Turns out, I was kind of wrong," she said.
Steinbach is more diverse than she expected, and "now you can actually do things on a Sunday," she said, referring to the start of Sunday shopping in the city in 2020. That followed the repeal of a provincial law that required a municipal bylaw to allow Sunday shopping.
Best of all, said Holmes, is that when she brings up her faith in regular conversation here, "they don't think I'm out to lunch."
Members of other faiths are making inroads as well.
Muslims starting holding weekly prayers in Steinbach in February. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, commonly known as the Mormon Church, has had a sanctuary in the city since 2018.
"We're here, we're around, but just maybe not the pioneers of the area," said Josh Gruninger, president of one of the church's Manitoba stakes (a unit made up of multiple congregations in some Latter-day Saints denominations).
They're not the most visible, either. There's no signage outside the commercial space that's now the Latter-day Saints place of worship in Steinbach.
Nonetheless, the opportunities that draw others to the area also attract members of his church, said Gruninger.
"I think what we're seeing is Steinbach becoming even better than it has been over the years because of what is being added to it."
Those without religious ties are also finding camaraderie.
Within the last decade, Gary Martens went from being part of the leadership team of his church in Kleefeld, just west of Steinbach, to joining a community of atheists, agnostics, humanists and non-believers in the city. He's now a member of Steinbach's Eastman Humanist Community.
While he still has some discomfort revealing his lack of faith publicly, there's comfort in knowing he isn't alone. He notices the church parking lots are emptier than they used to be.
"I know that there's a big enough community out there that is going to still engage with me, even though they know I have my doubts about faith," Martens said.
Though he left Kleefeld, he wanted to stay in southeastern Manitoba because it's where his family and friends are. He moved to Steinbach around five years ago, and loves it.
"I can walk to a grocery store, I can walk to a church, I can walk to a drug store, to a bar. For heaven's sakes, I can have a Guinness [beer] and fish and chips in Steinbach, a walk away from me." (Steinbach was dry until 2003 and only got a liquor store in 2009.)
Even so, getting along in Steinbach when your views are in the minority is a balancing act, he says.
"If you just, like, rent an apartment, buy a house and carry on [in] your workplace … do your stuff, everything's good," he said.
"But if you would start making statements, then maybe you would find it not quite as welcoming."
Mayor Funk said his city is among many that can still make inroads toward inclusivity, but he's glad with the progress he's seen.
"If that wasn't happening then we wouldn't be having the amount of newcomers we're having," Funk pointed out.
Christians helping Muslims
Funk's own life has been influenced by the words of a guest speaker he heard at his church five or six years ago. At that point, anti-Muslim sentiment was in the news, and the speaker stressed love above all else.
Funk says when he prayed that night, he asked God to show him how to love everyone, and specifically asked for Muslim friends.
"Who would have known that what happened would happen? [Now] I have the most amazing Muslim friends and I love them dearly," he said.
Funk became fast friends with a man he met at a barbecue for newcomers. They go for coffee regularly, and Funk and his wife, along with four other families, are now privately sponsoring the man's brother-in-law — an Iranian refugee stuck in Turkey.
Funk has been told that man — a likely future Steinbach resident — is in disbelief that Christian strangers are going out of their way for a family of Muslims.
"He says families don't even do this for each other," said Funk.
"That's what I want to see Steinbach become more and more and more — it wows people by the amount of help we do."
Hanh Rempel and her family were on the receiving end of similar help more than 40 years ago.
She and her family were refugees from Vietnam — part of the group often referred to as "boat people," who fled their country starting in the 1970s.
Her family was sponsored by a Mennonite family in Steinbach — support she's never forgotten.
Their journey from Vietnam was treacherous — their boat was raided by pirates, then turned away from Malaysia. In Indonesia, they intentionally sank their boat 100 metres off the coast so they wouldn't be turned around.
"We just grabbed everyone and jumped in [the water]. It was a leap of faith," she said.
Rempel said she had a great upbringing in Steinbach and never felt like an outsider. Growing up, she spent every summer at the cabin of the family that sponsored hers. They still get together every Christmas, she said.
Now the co-owner of a pharmacy, she notices the parallels between her family's journey and the Ukrainians now fleeing their home country. That inspired her and her husband, a Mennonite, to sponsor a family of Ukrainians.
"They have a little girl that's six years old, and that was how old I was when I came here," she said. "In many ways, it has been full circle."
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