Winter Solstice

On this day before the winter solstice I share a reflection I wrote in 2015 for an ecumenical Blue Christmas service.

 Just north of Dublin, Ireland, is a little place called Newgrange. It’s a World Heritage site, and one of the most popular tourist attractions in Ireland, and is about 5,000 years old. Newgrange is what’s known as a passage tomb, and is surrounded by a kerb, a continuous circle of 97 large stones, including the highly decorated entrance stone.



It covers a single tomb consisting of a long passage and a cross shaped chamber. At the top of the entrance is a roof box, through which the rising sun on December 21, the midwinter solstice, shines through a gap in the floor of the roof box and into the tomb chamber.

For 17 minutes, direct sunlight enters the inner tomb chamber. Each year there is a lottery for the very few people who can actually be inside the tomb on sunrise of the winter solstice. The rest of the year, visitors are taken in very carefully in small groups to experience a simulation of what happens at sunrise on December 21.

I visited Newgrange in the summer of 2011. There were so many things about this place that just boggled my mind. It is remarkable to think that people built this with such precision 1,000 years before the Pyramids, and even before the astronomical constructions of the Mayans. Archeologists can trace the stones used in the building to sites many miles from Newgrange, including some from the Wicklow Mountains south of Dublin. The intricate carvings on the entrance stone and on a few of the kerb stones were done with stone implements, as it was before metal tools.

In the years since I visited, the place continues to play in my thoughts, especially at this time of year. I think about the fact that the people of that time knew well the rhythms of the earth. Somehow, they had figured out the precise moment when the days began to lengthen, when the light began to return.

There has been much written recently by theologians and spiritual guides about darkness and light. Many point out that when we focus so much on light, we often miss the gifts of the darkness. The gift of growth, of mystery and the unknown, however scary and uncomfortable they are at the time.

As I continue to think about the people that built Newgrange, I realize that not only did they celebrate the coming of light into the world, but by building this amazing structure, they were ritualizing also the eventual return of darkness, and then light, and then darkness … for 5,000 years it has been happening. The acknowledgment that there is a cycle of light and darkness in the world, and we need both.

A number of years ago Rabbi David Seidenberg, in an article in Tikkun magazine, wrote “Darkness is what gives us the glory of the night sky. Without it, the Milky Way, the shining path that inspired our ancestors to look up and wonder “who created these?” is all but obliterated by the light spilling from our cities and suburbs.” He wrote of the darkness that gives birth to the world “… nurturing us by feeding us darkness, mystery, yearning. This is the darkness in which the seed begins to grow and the baby starts to form …” He says that “… most cultures have light-based rituals in the time of greatest darkness”, and that “Chanukah always includes the new moon that is closest to the solstice, which is in fact the darkest night of the year …”[1]

And we know that at least some of the origins of the celebration of Christmas were in pagan celebrations that celebrated the coming of light into the world. The wisdom in these traditions is as old as humankind.

So when Jesus said “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, … you will find rest for your souls” … could he be referring to this ancient wisdom? To the knowledge that the light will come … and the darkness will come again too. Perhaps we learn each time we live through the darkness and then experience the coming of light … perhaps each time we are more able to sit in the darkness, waiting for the light that we know will come, trusting in the rhythm of the ages. Can we learn from this wisdom of the ancients … can we learn during the difficult times to lay our burdens down, in prayer, with a trusted friend or companion, just for a while, in the knowledge that the light will come?

Jan Richardson, in her book Night Visions, Searching the Shadows of Advent and Christmas, talks about the concept of thresholds, those in between places when we are making a passage from one place to another. Whether we find ourselves at a threshold by choice or by circumstance, while it might not seem so at first, thresholds “… can become holy places of new beginnings as we tend it, wait within it, and discern the path beyond.”[2]

There are lots of videos online, and tons of information about Newgrange. You can see a great National Geographic youtube video about Newgrange at:

https://youtu.be/P6XAFJ_FdOA?si=84IdoSi5MDBhwUGf

 You can find out more about Newgrange, and apparently watch a livestream of the sunrise at Newgrange World Heritage Site : Boyne Valley, Ireland

 I am sharing this early enough so if any of you want to get up very early tomorrow morning and watch the livestream … let me know how it goes.

 

Happy Solstice!

 



[1] http://www.tikkun.org/nextgen/25884

[2]Jan Richardson, Night Visions, United Church Press, Cleveland, Ohio, 1998; p.111

even more stories and scenes ...

December 20, 2024

I have loved seeing your nativity scenes, and hearing their stories. It reminds me how important our traditions are, and how they get passed on through the generations. Here are the last of the ones that I have received.

This week … you get two blogs. Later today or early tomorrow I will share some thoughts about the winter solstice/longest night and an ancient place outside of Dublin that I visited that honours the rhythms of light and dark in the world.

Then I will be taking a bit of a break for a couple of weeks. I will be around, and will lead worship on December 29th and toast the New Year with you after the worship service. But unless there is a pastoral emergency I will be laying low, enjoying visits with family and friends, reading and knitting by the fire, and perhaps even enjoying a drop of Writers Tears (isn’t that a great name for an Irish whiskey?).

I will see many of you in the next couple of weeks at church, but to those I don’t, many blessings of this season and safe travels if you are traveling. It is a privilege serving as your minister over these past 5 months and I look forward to the next 7

We begin this week’s sharing with Dana.

Dana writes: This was purchased in Calgary, AB and given by Jeff and I to my parents for the first Christmas we spent apart. When my parents died, I began to display it each year. It’s wooden blocks so the grandkids have been able to play with the Nativity scene. Mom added a Christmas Star ornament from her collection, and it sort of stuck. It’s likely over 50 years old.

This next one, which is hanging outside the church office when you come in the Joseph Howe entrance, is one that the Sunday School made a couple of years ago. Louisa shares this:

That was our first big project post-Covid. We made the pattern together, and then chose the background fabrics, which I cut and pieced together. We had great fun deciding what the hills and fields would look like, and deciding how to arrange the buttons. These are mostly shank-backed buttons, so we had to make holes in the fabric to push the backs through, and then secure them with a safety pin. The children had great fun learning to use the sewing stiletto to make the holes!

Working on this project gave us a lot of time to talk together, and reconnect as a Sunday School community as in-person worship resumed. You get to have great conversations when you’re gathered around a project, taking turns in deciding where to place various elements and then actually doing the work to bring your idea to life. The children enjoyed it so much that we went on to make a quilt next!

These two are from Mavis Hicks and Ian Parker:

It belonged to Mavis, gifted by an old friend. It was brought to this house when we married moved here in 1994. One "wise guy" is missing. The other is a teeny, tiny wooden one from Germany.

And finally, for your viewing pleasure, a video the Bethany youth group made several years ago (2017 or 2018?) with their version of the Christmas Story. Many thanks to Kyla Mills who edited this down from the larger worship service video. Recognize anyone you know? Enjoy!

 also, just received these pictures taken by Karen Finley of last Sunday’s Living Nativity event. 

More stories and scenes ...

December 13, 2024

One of my favourite Christmas stories is a book called Angela and the Baby Jesus, written by Irish author Frank McCourt. A few years ago it was made into a short animated film available on Netflix. McCourt also wrote Angela’s Ashes, a memoir of his childhood, which won a Pulitzer Prize in 1997.

 Here’s the trailer from the Netlix film:  

 https://youtu.be/RnrkwZBnbLs?si=ABHqJj8s7PWs_0O7

 Or you can listen to the audiobook at:

https://youtu.be/1uTFapQ9G5c?si=wU6yFBJpp055d7UT

 Angela and the Baby Jesus is a true story about McCourt’s mother, who as a young child kidnaps the baby Jesus from the nativity scene in the church.

She thought he looked cold, so she brings him home and tucks him under the covers in her own bed which she shares with her sister. Of course, she has a hard time keeping it a secret, and soon the whole family knows that she has stolen the baby Jesus from the church nativity scene. Her mother is horrified.

What will the priest say? When the priest arrives with the police, he is faced with what to do with Angela, who after all, has only entered the story in a very real way, who just had the baby Jesus’ welfare at heart.

Next week, Advent 4, is Love. When we open our hearts to let love into our hearts, we are, like John the Baptist, preparing the way for Christ to be born, again and again, in the world. We are, like little Angela, taking Jesus out of the nativity scene and bringing him into our homes. We are, like Mary and Zechariah in our readings this week (Advent 3, Joy) and last (Advent 2, Peace), saying yes to God.

I am enjoying seeing your pictures and reading your stories about your favourite nativity scenes.

And, I look forward to this Sunday evening when I will see Bethany’s Living Nativity. Carol Knapp starts us off with this story of one of the previous Living Nativity evenings:

“Once at the Living Nativity Glen (a shepherd – with a goat!) was kneeling by the manger when his goat head butted him in the butt and sent him into the manger.”

That must have been quite the sight!!

Here are a few more:

Several of you have mentioned to me that years ago Bethany also made the nativity scene blocks that I am using with the children during the Sundays in Advent.

This is from Ann Bradley. She said:

“You inspired me to dig these out of the Christmas chest. They were buried beneath so much stuff! But they are still in good shape. We are missing the angel.”

I told her I still had the patterns of all the figures. In fact, The Christian Education Committee at my previous church decided they would undertake the project over zoom during Advent 2020. And, to be clear, it was the GO Project staff and CE Committee members that organized the event and did all the preparations. My felt cutting days are long gone. Here they all are. It worked surprisingly well.

Sandra Shields: I have had this since 1972. It was a gift, from a woman named Mrs. Heath, who would become like a mother to me. 

Maryth Maxner: This Nativity was the one I used in my Preschool for many years. It was well enjoyed and not one piece was broken. It was symbolic that all the characters are children.

This is our Nativity when Chuck and I were first married, simple yet it tells the story so well.

Louisa Duck: Attached is a picture of our little Nativity scene. This dates back to Christmas of 1940, the first Christmas that my maternal grandparents were married.

My granddad worked at Aluminum Goods in Toronto, and various salesmen would go in during the lunch hours with their various wares. Grandpa brought this home for Nana one day after work.

When I was growing up, this was on my parents’ mantel every Christmas. The Christmas that Tom and I were engaged, in 1994, my dad gave my mum an early gift, a beautiful hand-painted ceramic Nativity. It was lovely, but my brothers and I were shocked at such a change. Why mess with tradition? And then, when we were putting away the decorations after the holiday that year, my mum filled a box with ornaments for Tom and I, and she put in the Nativity, along with the little village you see to the right. They’ve been in our home for 29 Christmases now. So that’s the story of our Nativity! 

Pam Carter: Not sure how old it really is but was always there when growing up. It is missing Joseph, some animals, a couple of wise men. The angel is missing a halo. It belonged to my aunt who had it on top of a little tree. When my daughter was little and we would go visit Aunt Blanche more than 40 years ago Wendy loved holding it so my Aunt gave it to her. It was added to the nativity. 


Linda Knechtel: I have been using this Nativity Scene since my son was very young.  It was handcrafted in Lunenburg and can be set up in different configurations.  It was my son’s Christmas “job” to set it up each year. Now, my great, great niece (age 2) can enjoy it too. 

And here are a few more from Julie Johnson’s collection …

 

          

 

 

Nativity scenes

I received a number of pictures of nativity scenes. I will let them, and their stories, speak for themselves.

I will tell you that from the research I did (on the internet of course … and there’s lots of stuff there about the history of nativity scenes), I re-learned, because I had heard this before, that St. Francis of Assisi is credited with creating the first living nativity scene on Christmas Eve in 1223 in Greccio, Italy. The scene was set in a cave and included a wax figure of baby Jesus, animals, and people dressed as Mary and Joseph.

Of course, before that, there were depictions of nativity scenes in paintings, frescos, and other art forms.

Our Moderator posted today about a “Nativity Expo” at Grace United Church in Burlington, Ontario, where they will display over 200 nativity scenes from members of the congregation. Looks like it is a yearly event. (Nativity Expo)

So, it is safe to say that nativity scenes are popular around the world. They are a way of telling the story of the birth of Jesus. And each one has a story within a story. Where it was purchased, a memory of Christmases past or a family member, a story about how it has survived over many years …

For your viewing pleasure, here are a couple more videos for you to enjoy.

This one is from an American church with folks of all ages telling the story.

https://youtu.be/DMA5gZ7mF8s?si=Hn0m9WEuuuO8vXgg

And, this is from Canadian artist William Kurelak’s 1976 children’s book, A Northern Nativity, with Chris DeBurgh’s music.

 https://youtu.be/aKK_uvnph08?si=bCPg8m4Kw-80-_4Y

We look forward to seeing you at Bethany this Sunday, when we will celebrate Advent 2. It is the Sunday of Peace. On our journey to Bethlehem we will be thinking about Jerusalem, the site of the Temple, where Zechariah, a priest in the Temple, receives an angel visitor who tells him that his wife Elizabeth will bear a son. The encounter leaves Zechariah speechless because he and his wife are in their senior years. Zechariah and Elizabeth are John the Baptist’s parents. This is an important moment in the origin story of Jesus, but I doubt you will find Zechariah, Elizabeth, or John the Baptist in a nativity scene. At least, I have never seen them in the picture …

Here are some pictures from members of our congregation …

Kathy Brown: It is fired terracotta clay, painted. Made in Bangladesh and bought at a Ten Thousand Villages sale at St. Andrew's many years ago. It is very small just 13 centimeters across the base in front, but very detailed.

Kathy Grant: My treasured collectibles are my blocks that spell out the Sundays in advent. 

Ruth Devenne: My late husband came into my workplace about 30 years ago very excited because he had found it at the Bible Store downtown. It was the same one his family had when he was a child.  

Maryth Maxner

Barb Black:  Mom and Dad had it the year before I came along. One year we broke Joseph’s staff so Dad put a chicken skewer in his hand. After I got it, a camel’s hoof broke off so I used a pencil eraser to give him a prosthetic hoof. Even the straw is 74 years old. This nativity scene could tell many stories.

Betty Tozer: This is the nativity scene that Jim and I had out for our nieces and nephews (when they were little ones).  They always liked that it was children and not adults.

Julie Johnson: The wooden one I purchased at the last spring fair hosted by the Sunday School. Baby Jesus was missing but for $1, got it anyway....lol.. Les Russell carved a new Baby Jesus for me.

I will post others from Julie’s collection next week.

Angels among us ...

Poor old Murphy. The look on his face says to me … “seriously?”

I will admit to not having a lot of patience in the past with people who dress their pets up. But I have to admit … this one makes me smile.

It’s kind of how I felt a few weeks ago when I began to plan Advent and Christmas, and to imagine how I was going to jump on board the moving train that is Bethany United Church during the upcoming season. It is truly dizzying trying to keep up with everything that happens within this community of faith.

Last year at this time I was newly retired, exhausted, and slightly burnt out, having just moved back to Halifax after living in Toronto for five years. A large part of my exhaustion was the stress of living in two places at once (my home in Halifax, and a small apartment in Toronto), while leading a congregation through Covid and several other major projects during those five years. If I am honest … I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to set foot in a church again. I suspect this is not a surprise to those who have heard me preach these past few months.

But something happened at about the nine month mark after my official retirement. I have a good friend and colleague who used to refer to God’s call as a pesky mosquito who keeps coming around to bite you. Even though, and despite the fact, that you keep swatting it away. I heard God saying …  “I’m not done with you yet …”

As we approach the first Sunday in Advent, I am pondering the significance of the nine month gestation period for the birth of something new in my life.

Christmas is all about the story.

A good story speaks to us over time. We gain new insights each time we return to it. We see ourselves in the story from new perspectives and different points of view.

There’s a reason nativity scenes are so popular. I have a collection myself. Many are from different parts of the world. It offers a way of entering the story, just like Christmas pageants, holiday movies, Christmas carols and decorations.

Sometimes during the sermon or reflection times I ask folks who they relate to in the story.

Many years ago, I attended a workshop with John Bell from the Iona Community in Scotland. He told stories of his work with working class and marginalized people in Glasgow, and he helped us see how the Christmas story can connect to people in their own contexts.

Joseph’s story might particularly resonate with step-parents, and blended and adoptive families. Those people who open their hearts to a child that is not their biological child.

The shepherds, we are told, were the first to hear the news about the birth of Jesus. In those days, shepherds were on the lowest rung of society – on the margins. What are the implications that the good news came first to them? Who are the shepherds in our midst, and are we listening to them?

Someone took pity on that couple as they wandered the city that night – one person took them in and offered them a place to at least have a bit of shelter. A simple act of hospitality, in the midst of what would have been a noisy, overcrowded, chaotic scene, that would change the world.

The wise ones traveled from a foreign land for years to meet this new King of the Jews. According to Matthew’s gospel they don’t even get to Jesus until much later. But somehow, they have found their way into the manger scene. They bring the gift of recognition by outsiders.

We are told that after they met the baby, they had to go home a different way. Don’t we all?

There are all the folks on the margins of the story who often don’t make it into the nativity scenes. Zechariah and Elizabeth, Anna and Simeon – the gift of the aged and the wise ones at the beginning and end of the story.

And the angels – of course the angels who announce the birth to the nations. The messengers that bring good news.

And, there is Mary, the pregnant teenager.

What is Mary’s story?

Over the next four weeks we will explore all of these stories.

How will you enter the Christmas story this year? And whose story catches your attention? Here are two videos that an Australian church put together a number of years ago, but they still bring me joy even though I have seen them many times. And a smile.

Just like the picture of Murphy.

Angels among us indeed.

https://youtu.be/kWq60oyrHVQ?si=35D3BA2aL3i5d0Jw

and this one that they did a couple of years later …

https://youtu.be/TM1XusYVqNY?si=AoHXmLT_EsqXuFFr

 

Children in our midst ...

This is my daughter Rev. Alana Martin, Minister to The GO Project, since 2007 a national United Church of Canada children and youth program, as she begins to preach about Children’s Sunday last week at Metropolitan United Church in Toronto.

 (You can learn more about The GO Project at The GO Project — About Us)

She nailed it. To say I am proud would be a gross understatement. And yes, I am a tiny bit biased. I’ll just get that statement out of the way early.

In her sermon Alana combines some heartfelt testimony about her own experiences growing up in a community of faith with some pretty great research on children’s spirituality and the current state of children and youth ministry in the United Church of Canada. Spoiler alert: we are in a bit of a crisis, and have been for some time.

You can watch the whole 17 minute sermon (at Met they also edit the sermons so you can just watch that part!) at

 SERMON "Nurturing Children's Spirituality in the Church of Today" The Reverend Alana Martin 

Or, I can summarize it for you.

I claim very little credit for her positive experiences as a child and youth at St. John’s United Church in Halifax. Other than dragging her around to endless church meetings and on Sunday mornings, it was the community that surrounded her, knew her name, checked in with her, mentored her, and provided a safe space for her to grow.  She also gives us some pretty hard to hear statistics …

“Based upon United Church of Canada Year Book stats, ministry with children has been declining in the United Church since the 1960s. The highest reported membership in Sunday Schools was just over 757,000 in 1961. By 1980 that number had fallen to 232,000. In 2022, 13,000 newborns, toddlers, school-aged children, and youth under 17 were reported as attending United Churches across the country. That’s a 98% decrease since the 1960’s.”

But it’s not all bad news. The church is one of the very few institutions left that gather intergenerationally. And my own research says that children and youth need the presence of elders, mentors and adults of all ages in their lives. We have a unique opportunity.

Alana gives us some pretty good reasons why the inclusion of children into all aspects of the faith community is a good thing. First and foremost is that children and youth have gifts to offer NOW. Sure, we’ve all heard that “children and youth are the future of the church” … but they also have many gifts to offer the church today. And she also says it’s the whole community’s responsibility to support the ministry of and to children, youth and their families (in all shapes and sizes!) not just one person’s responsibility.

This Sunday, Nov. 24, Bethany United Church will celebrate Children’s Sunday, a chance to celebrate the gifts, ministry and spirituality of children in our midst.

The members of the Sunday School will be joining us for the service, and we will focus our worship service around the story The Quiltmaker’s Gift by Paul Brumbeau. We will look at the themes of generosity and happiness, and also hear about some of the special projects the Sunday School has planned for Advent, including a gift the children have made for youth in need. We will also bless the prayer shawls that are given out on a regular basis as part of Bethany’s pastoral care ministry. 

Other people’s words ... and paintings ...

November 15, 2024

I continue to look for inspiration and hope in the words of others. I was really hoping I would give myself a break from all things US election related news, but it seems like I keep craving more. Explanations … commentaries … reflections … words of encouragement. I thought I might just share a couple that have helped me this week.

For a number of years I have been following historian Heather Cox Richardson, who sends out a daily email called “Letters from an American”. Richardson, a professor of American history at Boston College, has authored seven books on history and politics. In 2019, Richardson started publishing Letters from an American, a nightly newsletter that chronicles current events in the larger context of American history. Richardson focuses on the health of American democracy. As someone who failed history at every level, I find Richardson accessible, relevant, and balanced.  I actually look forward to her posts, which are clear and well researched. Check her out at:

 Letters from an American | Heather Cox Richardson | Substack

 Many folks in the past couple of days have reposted something from author and motivational speaker Brené Brown’s Instagram. Here is an excerpt:

“Right now, the thing that is helping the most is micro-dosing hope. I have no access to big hope right now, however, I am asking myself how I can support the people around me. The people on my team, in my community. How can I make sure that, in the maelstrom of my emotions, I stay committed to courage, kindness, and caring for others regardless of the choices made by others? Doing the smallest right next thing is hard … but sometimes it’s all we’ve got.”

Microdosing hope. I like that. I experienced that at Saint Vincent’s Guesthouse yesterday afternoon, where I led a short worship service. Local UCC clergy take turns leading once a month, and I used to do this many years ago when I was at St. John’s. So when the Spiritual Care Coordinator emailed in September to see if Bethany would continue to take part, (as the previous minister did), Ann and I agreed that we would continue for this year and evaluate. I was delighted that Linda Grady was able to come to accompany the hymns, and six members of the choir from Bethany joined us to lead in the singing. The service and our presence was received with much gratitude and enthusiasm. And I left, as I always have in the past, humbled, and touched by the spirit. And hopeful.

Where are you experiencing microdoses of hope these days?

Last week I talked about perseverance and persistence in the face of injustice and social change. It always brings me hope to think about an experience I had nearly 20 years ago, when I went to a university chaplains’ conference at Columbia University in New York City. Very close to Columbia is a well known Episcopal church called St. John the Divine. They are known for their art exhibits and music concerts in the beautiful sanctuary.

One of the exhibits we saw was a new exhibit called Americans Who Tell the Truth – Models of Courageous Citizenship, by painter Robert Shetterly. I was completely taken with this exhibit. The project has grown since then. I would urge you to check out their website … videos, paintings, resources, and lots of information about their traveling exhibits and educational programs.

 Americans Who Tell The Truth

In one video interview with the artist, he talks about how he started the project in 2003 after 911, feeling quite helpless about what he could do. He thought he would start to paint portraits of Americans who had stood up for truth and justice. He said his goal was to paint 50 portraits. There are narratives that accompany these portraits of citizens who courageously address issues of social, environmental, and economic fairness.

The exhibit has been traveling around the country since 2003. This week, it travels to Portlalnd, Maine. I have attached an article from the local newspaper.

 Maine artist’s ‘Americans Who Tell the Truth’ collection coming to Bates Mill

Venues have included everything from university museums and grade school libraries to sandwich shops, and the Superior Court in San Francisco. To date, the exhibits have visited 38 states. In 2006, a book of the portraits based on the exhibits won the top award of the International Reading Association for Intermediate non-fiction.

There are now over 275 portraits in the collection, and you can see them online. Shetterly keeps adding to the collection. The portraits have given Shetterly an opportunity to speak with children and adults all over the country about the necessity of dissent in a democracy, the obligations of citizenship, sustainability, US history, and how democracy cannot function if politicians don’t tell the truth, if the media don’t report it, and if the people don’t demand it.

 It’s an incredible collection of paintings, each with a quote and biography – Harriet Tubman, Walt Whitman, Naomi Kline, Susan B. Anthony, Abraham Lincoln, Mohammed Ali, Rachel Carson, Mother Jones, Sojourner Truth, Edward Snowden, Alice Walker, Lily Yeh … many you would know, but many you probably have never heard before.

Shetterly himself said, when the collection only contained 180 portraits, that half of them were people who he had never heard of before. What continues to amaze me about this exhibit – is the persistence of the subjects – despite probably being vilified by peers, or those in power … they continued to speak their truth even though for many of them it seemed like no one was listening. No one understood. All seemed lost.

I would love to hear from you about hope in these times. We will continue this conversation on Sunday when we have a look at Hannah’s Song from the book of Samuel. A song of hope that was actually the song that Mary sang which we know as The Magnificat.

Where are you finding hope these days? Even if it is a microdose …

 

I have no words ...

The picture is a picture I took at the Walls of Derry/Londonderry on one my trips to Northern Ireland. It’s a screen saver on my phone. I see it all the time. When I took the picture, it reminded me of the persistence of the folks working for peace and reconciliation in NI. Persistence over decades. And it always makes me think “if they can keep going, I guess I can’t stop.”

 Like many of you, I am reeling and processing the results of Tuesday’s election in the US. Looking for hope. Suppressing rage, indignation, fear, and disbelief. Some of my usual “go to” online folks that I look to for inspiration have been noticeably silent … I suspect in the same state and wondering how to move forward.

 We left St. Thomas, Ontario at 7:15 am on Tuesday morning and our goal was to reach Levis, just outside of Quebec City, that evening. We finally reached our destination by about 6:00. After ordering some food, we nervously turned on the TV. It wasn’t long until my stomach started to turn. Along with millions of others around the world, I sat in disbelief as the results started to come in. I finally tried to sleep for a few hours, hoping that things might turn around in the meantime.

 Of course, they didn’t. With heavy hearts, we grabbed some breakfast in the morning and set out for the final stretch. We listened all day to commentators from many different communities, left and right leaning, offering early analyses and post-mortem reflections.

 “The Democrats didn’t listen to the working class.”

“In exit polls, the economy was the number one issue that people voted on.”

“The Latino community was divided.”

“Kamala Harris didn’t have enough time to mount a proper campaign.”

“Fear won.”

 And on and on. In the coming months and years no doubt there will be volumes written about this election. What went right and what went wrong.

 Just before we got home, we heard Kamala Harris’ grace filled, hopeful, and dare I say even feisty concession speech.

 As I continue to process things, mostly I am afraid … for the people of Ukraine … for the millions of U.S. immigrants who face possible mass deportation … for the trans community … for anyone who spoke out or actively worked against Trump who may now face retribution … it becomes paralyzing.

 I just received an email from Broadview Magazine with a short reflection, and also a link to Christoper White’s recommendations on “6 ways to find hope amid U.S. election despair” which includes some good advice. You can check it out at Trump, again?! Hope amid election despair. How written Cree came to be.

 Last night I also remembered one of my favourite readings from Basilian priest Rene Fumoleau, who served in Northern Canada for more than twenty years. Fumoleau was also a poet and published a collection of his works reflecting on all he had learned during his time among the Dene people. For many years, when I am feeling discouraged and overwhelmed, I have turned to this reading. It has grounded me in turbulent times. During the pandemic I think I read it almost daily.

 We can only see a hundred metres ahead of us. But we go with the little light we have. And we keep moving forward.

Truck lights.

Winter time and very cold,
early afternoon but already dark.
I’m driving from Yellowknife to Rae in my 15 year old pick-up truck,
and a Dene elder asked me for a ride.

The land has taught the Dene
to live in a world of silence.
After ten kilometres, Kolchia reflects:

“Driving the truck is like having faith in God.”

I’m trying to figure out what he means, but, after two kilometres I give up:

“Grandpa, you talked about driving and faith in God.

I’m not sure what you meant.”

Kolchia turned slightly towards me:

“You started the engine and you put the lights on. We could have said:
‘We see only one hundred metres ahead.
Further on, it’s one hundred kilometres of darkness,

so we cannot go to Rae.’

But you got the truck in gear,
we started to move,
and the lights kept showing ahead of us.
Must be the way with God too
who shows us only a bit of the future,
just enough for our next move.
If we are afraid and if we stand still,
we’ll never see further ahead.
But if we go with the little light we have,
the light keeps showing us the way on and on.”

 

Traveling mercies ...

Borrowing the title of my favourite Anne Lamott book …

After a quick visit with friends in Toronto on Wednesday evening, made it to St. Thomas, Ontario Thursday to visit Alana and Matt's new home. Murphy is always happy to see Pat … 14 dogs on the tiny street where they live.

Deal me a good hand please Alana

Celebrating Alana’s birthday and my sister and brother-in-law's anniversary Saturday … same day 34 years ago.

Finishing the latest Louise Penny mystery today before turning to Advent planning tomorrow (yes … it's really that time!)

Leaving for Halifax Tuesday.

If you want to make God laugh ...


Exactly one year ago my life was in complete chaos. I was preparing what I thought would be my last sermon ever for my last worship service at a church in the east end of Toronto, where I had arrived in 2018 for a five month supply position.

I ended up staying for five years. The picture at the top is what I brought with me in September, 2018, when I arrived to live with a friend for what I thought would be a short stint in Toronto.

Four suitcases and a knapsack.

The lower picture is of the 14 boxes that I left at my daughter’s place on October 31, 2023, to be shipped to Halifax a month later. I flew to Halifax that day with my daughter …. and another 7 suitcases.

I didn’t take a picture of the suitcases. I was probably too embarrassed. I was also very discombobulated at the time because when I checked in I had only counted 6 suitcases (Alana, when we were in line to put the suitcases on the belt said … “mom … you have SEVEN suitcases …”) and we then had to get into a much longer lineup to get a tag for the seventh suitcase.

7 suitcases and 14 boxes (sounds like a country song) … and that’s not even counting the things I had brought to Toronto over those five years (in those extra suitcases), and the half truck full of extra furniture and household stuff that Pat drove up in the spring of 2019 after I had decided to stay and I got the first apartment.

Not to mention the rest of the odds and ends I had acquired in Toronto to furnish that one bedroom apartment. All of that went to friends, family, various church refugee support groups, or the curb that last weekend in Toronto a year ago.

One year ago I was exhausted and burnt out, a little sad, and, if I am totally honest with myself, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to step foot in church again.

I was leaving a job I had grown to love, and was good at, for that dreaded word … “retirement.” I guess many of us get there, if we are privileged and lucky enough.

I was also leaving new and old friends, family members, and a sense of identity.

I was overwhelmed, tired, and feeling pretty wobbly about the future.

But I also knew that it was time to come home. I had some health issues that I needed to make a priority, and the idea of trying to live in two places at once was no longer sustainable, financially or psychologically. Getting through Covid and other unexpected bumps during that five years had taken a toll.

My first few months back in Halifax were filled with many joys and challenges. Reconnecting with family, companionship in the evenings, old friends, a womens’ choir I was part of before I left, sleep, mystery novels, BBC series, knitting, and staying in my pajamas much of the day brought me joy and helped me heal.

Endless physio and medical appointments, navigating the UCC pension benefits plan, going through those 14 boxes and a wall of books and files in the basement from 35 years of ministry, and the voices in my head that said I would probably never “work” again were the challenges. I still have piles of stuff in strategic places to get to “one of these days”.

Gradually the fog lifted and I began to think maybe there was something left in my ministry “bag” … and I began to ask myself … did I have the confidence to even dip a toe in the water (and fill out the forms on ChurchHub … gah!)?

“How will I know if I’m supposed to put myself out there? I’ve been away for 5 years … no one remembers me” … all the “whatifs” … and they got louder and louder.

However, I’ve always been pretty good (not that I ever knew it at the time) at jumping off a metaphorical cliff without really knowing where I would land. When I moved from Toronto to Nova Scotia in my mid-twenties … when I entered theology school in my late thirties … when I left a full time secure job to take a contract half time position as a university chaplain in the 1990s … going up to Toronto in 2018.

I could fill volumes writing about times in my life when I have taken a leap into the unknown, somehow trusting in God/intuition/mystery that “all will be well.”

Mostly, it served me well.

This was my Facebook post on July 29, 2024 …

“Well ... with the wise words ‘never say never’ ringing in my ears ... and the reassurance that the Spirit continues to surprise ... and after 9 months of retirement/R&R ... I start today on a one year appointment as the lead minister at Bethany United Church in Halifax. Prayers welcome!”

I had many well wishes, as well as one particularly memorable comment from a former colleague on the UCC Committee on Theology and Inter-church and Inter-faith Relations:

“There are far worse things than failing at retirement! Blessings on your journey.”

Indeed, I am always reminded of something I read many years ago …

“If you want to make God laugh … tell her your plans.”

This week marks three months since I started at Bethany. I have been welcomed, and affirmed, and have been inspired by your ministry in the community and amongst each other. I have been humbled and awed by my extremely gifted and forgiving colleagues who have answered my many questions patiently and are always ready to hear my own ideas.

I have been blessed with many conversations, with individuals and in group settings.  I continue to learn and ponder how my gifts and experience can be best served in this community during my time here. I welcome your comments and suggestions.

I hope many of you can join us this Sunday at 10:30, when we celebrate Bethany’s anniversary, and Tim Crooks, Executive Director of Phoenix House is the guest preacher.

At 3 pm, there will be a Covenanting Service between myself, Bethany United Church and Bermuda-Nova Scotia Regional Council to officially mark my appointment as the supply minister until next July.

Next week, Pat and are are driving to Ontario to visit our daughter and her spouse who have just bought a house in St. Thomas. I may post a few pictures, but won’t promise much more until after my return on November 7.

Pets I have known ...

Casey

I grew up with a neurotic miniature poodle named Casey. She was really my dad’s dog, and had little time or patience with or affection for anyone else in the family. That’s about all I remember, except that she liked beer, (that’s her trying to get the dregs from a beer bottle, above) and she had a litter of puppies.

After Casey, and after I had left home, my mom and dad got an apricot miniature poodle named Punkin. She was named after Punkinhead, the toy bear who was the subject of a series of children’s books published by the Eaton’s department store in downtown Toronto, which is where my mom and dad met. Punkinhead the bear had a tuft of orange hair. When dad died quite suddenly in 1985, poor old Punkin was never the same. She came to live with us when we moved to Toronto in 1986 and my mom didn’t feel she could look after her very well.

But by then she had developed hip problems and bad eyesight … and was a bit overwhelmed by the energy of two young children. Pat said he would take her for walks but would never call her “Punkin” in public. I said she was too old to change her name. She didn’t last long, but she was loved and cared for in her last months.

Chris and Punkin when they were very young

In 1990, when I was very pregnant with Alana, Chris was 11 and Duncan was 9. Chris took it as his personal mission to advocate for a kitten every chance he would get. “I’ll take care of it mom. I will feed it. It can sleep with me … blah blah blah”. Tired of saying no, he caught me in a weak moment, and we went down the road to the vet (where they had kittens apparently) and soon Pepe le Pew had joined the household.

She was a lovely kitten. Who grew into a strong, independent, fairly anti-social cat. She had a good relationship with Alana, and tolerated me, Chris and Duncan. Not so much with Pat, which was the result of an unfortunate incident in the middle of the night when they both collided in the dark and Pepe went flying down the stairs. I don’t think they ever spoke to each other again. She lived to be 19.

Pepe le Pew, as a kitten, and a stuffy adult cat

In the past four years, there have been new additions to the family.

Several months after the pandemic started, Alana got Murphy, a rescue dog from Mexico. Within several weeks she realized that he was reactive with other dogs, no doubt because of his history (which was mostly unknown). But it was clear from scars on his body that he had experienced altercations of some sort. However, from the get go, it was also clear that Murphy loved people (but mostly Alana), and sunshine.

As a first time dog owner, Alana spent thousands of dollars on dog training and online support (remember, it was Covid). When she met Matt a number of months later, who had training as a veterinary technician, Murphy quickly loved Matt too. Here he is in his wedding gear last December (pre-ceremony, for pictures only … he was with the dog-sitter, who he also loves, at the AirB&B for the rest of the day). I think the legs belong to the best man Ron (another of Murphy’s favourite people) and Matt.

Murphy

And Chris and Tiffany have Willow (dog) and Hiro (cat). I don’t think they are always as loving as they might appear in the picture below (how on earth did they ever make THAT happen anyway?) … but they seem to be buddies. I wouldn’t know. I am not sure I have ever met Hiro. But Willow and I have met. We had Thanksgiving dinner with them last weekend. They live just outside of Chester. Willow also loves people, and the cows next door.

She was beside herself with joy in the company of so many visitors – some that she knows very well (Tiffany’s parents), some that she sees fairly often (Duncan and Tamara) and some that she only sees occasionally (Pat and I). But she treated us all with equal enthusiasm and energy.

       Willow and Hiro

        We hope many of you will join us on Sunday when we will bless the animals during worship in honour of St. Francis of Assissi, Italian mystic and poet, and the patron saint of many, including poor people, ecology, and animals. We will happily bless pictures and stuffies. If you prefer to watch us online, you are welcome to bless your pet over the airwaves.

        If you would like a real treat, go to this website to hear the great Pulitizer Prize winning poet reading her well known poem “I happen to be standing”:

https://onbeing.org/blog/mary-oliver-reads-her-poem-i-happened-to-be-standing/

Help, Thanks, Wow

A photo taken from Perth of the stunning night sky. [Pia/BBC Weather Watchers]

 One of my favourite authors, Anne Lamott, in her book Traveling Mercies says, “Here are the two best prayers I know: “Help me, help me, help me,” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She refined this theory in a later book, observing that the three essential prayers were, “Help”, “Thanks”, and “Wow.”

During confirmation and membership classes, I usually try to define prayer in a very open ended way, and with as broad a brush as possible …. Something like … prayer is whatever you do to put yourself in the presence of God – the Divine Presence – the Source of All Being – however you want to describe it – perhaps it is walking, perhaps it is listening to music, or painting.

Perhaps, it is when things fall apart and you feel like you can’t go on that you pray. That’s a pretty common occurrence. And you might, like the words of many of our Psalms, the songs of our faith, cry out in rage, despair, or disappointment.

That would be the “help” prayer.

Sometimes when I feel overwhelmed in my “help” prayers, I intentionally try to remember when I felt God in my life during difficult times. And sometimes, I find hope.

There is a song called Dayeinu that is sung during the Jewish holiday of Passover. The word dayeinu means roughly, “it would have been enough.”

The song, which is over 1,000 years old, is about being grateful to God for all of the gifts given to the Jewish people. It is actually in the United Church hymn book, Voices United, on page 131.

Now, like any ancient ritual, sometimes it’s a challenge to make a story relevant to younger generations. Years ago a colleague sent around a video by a singing group called the Maccabeats. They have come up with some innovative ways to teach the song to try to keep the tradition, and the story, alive.

Check out the video, and you can even sing along with the English words printed on the screen!

The Maccabeats - Dayenu - Passover - דיינו (youtube.com)

I bet those kids will remember the story after that Passover!

Dayeinu … enough. What does it mean to have enough? Does enough mean having enough just for me, or does it mean having a little bit extra to share? Or does it mean having enough to share, and even enough to store away because I don’t trust that it will be there tomorrow?

What does it mean to “be enough”? Sometimes it feels like I am bombarded with messages that tell me (and the rest of the world I suspect) that I am not enough. I am encouraged to be more, save more, do more, love more, give more.

Is it possible to have a generous heart – to be more, to love more, to give more -  but also live a theology of “Dayeinu” … “enoughness”? Can I hold both at once? These are hard questions.

Maybe that’s where the “wow” comes in … sometimes, we are stopped in our tracks … and all one can do is stand in the mystery and awe.

And say “thank you.” “It is enough.”

The internet was flooded last night with pictures from all over the world of the Northern Lights. All across Canada. As far south as Texas. And in the United Kingdom. Apparently caused by a solar storm, folks that normally don’t get to see this amazing phenomenon in the sky did.

There was a lot of “wow” last night and I suspect we will see some amazing images over the next few days.

May you be blessed, and may you be a blessing to the world this Thanksgiving.

         “But, our God, who holds the banquet, calls the whole world into freedom:

         opens up the new creation: Dayeinu!” © (1993 Stainer & Bell, Ltd. Admin. Hope Publishing Company; Onelicense 742739)

 

Wisdom from Inspector Gamache

I was wrong. I’m sorry. I don’t know. I need help.

Fans of author Louise Penny will recognize these as the four statements that lead to wisdom, according to Chief Inspector Armand Gamache of the Sûrité du Québec. They appear in most if not all books in the series, which is set in the lovely village of Three Pines. The statements are usually delivered at some point to a new recruit to the team.

I hadn’t read the Gamache series until I retired almost a year ago, and I needed something to distract me and help me sink into my new reality. Being a fan of mysteries, I picked up the first one and before I knew it I had plowed through all 18.

After each one I said “I will give myself a break …”. But I never did. I was hopelessly hooked. I actually learned a lot about Québec in the process. I loved the characters and their development over the course of the series. I found myself wanting to live in Three Pines. I wanted to walk to the café every morning and have coffee and croissants with the locals. And then go and browse in Myrna’s book shop.

I was reminded of Gamache’s four statements (which, we learn in one of the books, he was told by an old fisherman), when they flashed across social media a few weeks ago and I remember thinking … “imagine if politicians took that wisdom to heart.”

Imagine! I was wrong? I’m sorry? I need help?

Perhaps “I don’t know” might be a stretch for a politician (is that like “concepts of a plan”?) … but in my experience, “I don’t know” can lead to possibility and collective learning.

I can’t tell you how many times I have said “I don’t know the answer to that question” in a bible study. Actually, that’s one of the indicators that helps me to know that the session has been a success. If folks are asking questions beyond the scope of what I have prepared, or my own knowledge (which is admittedly limited, especially around biblical issues) I consider that a sign of curiosity and interest. I have done my job. I don’t consider myself a failure (well, perhaps I do for a nano-second) … but I see it as a growing edge … a question that the whole group may want to pursue.

I am acutely aware of these four statements when it comes to educating myself about systemic racism and acknowledging my own white privilege. In August I told the story in worship about my experience at a workshop I was once leading when I said something about Canadians being typically nice. One participant, an African Canadian, challenged me. “Actually, that’s not been my experience,” she said, “I don’t think Canadians are very nice.”

I was silent for a minute, and then felt kind of ashamed, and then fought back a feeling of anger and a knee jerk defensive remark. I managed to say “I’m sorry. Can you tell me more about your experience?” And she did. And it was very hard to hear, because her experience growing up in Canada as a black woman was very different than mine. And she hadn’t experienced Canadians as being stereotypically nice.

In that one incident, I learned how important it is to say

I don’t know … your experience

I need help … understanding  … and then …

I’m sorry ...

I was wrong. Canadians aren’t always nice. I continue to learn from that very humbling and extremely uncomfortable moment.

What do you think about these four statements that Inspector Gamache (and the old fisherman) said “lead to wisdom”? Stating them requires a certain vulnerability and humility. Sometimes the situation is forced upon us and we have no choice … for example a health scare for ourselves or a loved one, or when we first become parents, or a work situation presents itself. Sometimes it’s travelling to another culture.

When in your life have you made these statements and realized that they led to wisdom?

Spiritual Practice - remembering

stones with holes from the shores of Lake Huron, Southampton, Ontario

In my childhood I spent part of every summer with my family at a cottage owned by my grandmother on the shores of Lake Huron. One of the activities of the time spent there was looking for stones with holes in them. It was supposed to bring you good luck.

My grandmother had a huge collection of these stones that she had on a string in the living room of the cottage, hanging just inside the front door.

I found that some folks were good at finding stones with holes, others were not. I was not.

Hard as I tried, I could never find one. One of my younger cousins found one every time she went down to the beach. It was infuriating. One of my sons used to find them quite regularly.

I remember one time, as I was lamenting never finding one, my cousin said “the trick is, you look for the hole, not the stone.” I could never quite figure out what that meant. Then one day, walking on the beach many decades later, I thought ok, I’ll give this one more try. And I didn’t find one. I was just about ready to walk away and give up.

Then I remembered the words of my cousin. I walked a little further, took a deep breath, and looked again. I found two stones with holes that day. Since then, I have been slightly more successful at finding stones with holes, and I have my own little collection.  

Up until not that many years ago, I always thought it was a family myth that these stones had some kind of magical qualities.

But, according to the Oxford University reference site,

“One of the most widespread magic devices to protect both man and beast was a pebble with a natural hole in it, also called ‘hagstone’, ‘witch-stone’, or (in the north-east) ‘adder-stones’. They were believed to repel witchcraft, and consequently any disease caused by spells or the evil eye; in particular, they prevented hag-riding. The earliest allusion is in a 15th-century charm against nightmares …

… Small ones could be carried in the pocket or hung up over the bed; larger ones were used in stables … A variation, still known in the mid-20th century, was to hang the stone on the stable door; usually the doorkey or a bit of old chain would be attached to it, reinforcing its power with that of iron. … in Victorian times, necklaces of them were sold ‘for luck’ in Brighton … and were much worn by women of fishing families.”[1]

When I look at my small collection, I marvel at the time – at the persistence - that it must have taken for the water and sand to bore a hole right through.

I realized lately that I tend to see them now in their totality, and not with any specific story of their finding. A few actually have holes that don’t go all the way through, but there was something about the stone that drew me to it.

Each time I look at them, and hold them … I am right back on the beach. And memories comes back to me of the place … the people … the sounds and smells of the beach and the water. It seems that many of the touchstone experiences of my life happened on those shores.

Perhaps the stones do hold magical qualities. They facilitate my memories. And they invite me to stop and give thanks for all the experiences of my life that make me who I am today.

I am also aware that stones can also be used as weapons to hurt people. And stones can be used as examples or metaphors for resistance to change.

This week in worship we talk about remembering. How we remember … what we remember … and we explore the dangers of only remembering one story, which is often only our own story.

As we approach the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation on September 30, non-indigenous people are called to listen to the experiences and memories of the indigenous peoples of Canada. We are called to honour the children who never returned home and Survivors of residential schools, as well as their families and communities.

In the words of the Moderator of the United Church of Canada, the Right Rev. Dr. Carmen Landsdowne in here 2024 address to the UCC, we are called “ … to reflect, learn and to pray about the continued impact of colonial policies and governance in what we call Canada.”

What are the objects and keepsakes that help you remember? When, and how, have you learned about someone else’s experience through a sacred story or object?


[1] Holed stones - Oxford Reference

Spiritual Practice Part One

My happy place

- the shores of Lake Huron, Southampton, Ontario

 Many years ago, when my own children were younger, I offered a study for young parents called “Parenting from a Spiritual Perspective”. The study was based on a wonderful book called “In the midst of chaos: Caring for Children as Spiritual Practice.”

It could hear the collective groans when I announced the study … “you mean we have to now add spiritual practice to the busy-ness of our lives?”

But the brilliance of the book was that it articulated that in fact, most parents were already engaged in spiritual practices in their family lives – spiritual practices of storytelling, food preparation and hospitality, gratitude, play, music, and many more.

I learned that the key to spiritual practice is intentionality, and being present to the moment. I can chop carrots for the stew in a hurry and think of all the other things I have to do instead of chopping carrots, or I can chop carrots imagining the people who are going to gather around the bowls of stew, enjoying each other’s company and conversation. The latter is a spiritual practice. The first is just a chore.

When we recognize that much of what we already do can be viewed as spiritual practice, it’s just a matter of state of mind, I think that spiritual practice becomes a bit more manageable.

Author and theologian Lauren Winner grew up as an Orthodox Jew, and then converted to Christianity as an adult. Although still committed to Christianity, she says in her book “mudhouse sabbath, An Invitation to a Life of Spiritual Discipline”:

“I miss Jewish ways. I miss the rhythms and routines that drew the sacred down into the everyday. I miss Sabbaths on which I actually rested. I have even found that I miss the drudgery of keeping kosher. I miss the work these practices effected between me and God.”

In her book Winner describes some of the practices that she misses after she converted to Christianity. She says:

“This is a book about those things I miss. It is about Sabbaths and weddings and burials and prayers, rituals Jews and Christians both observe, but also rituals we observe quite differently … It is, to be blunt, about spiritual practices that Jews do better. It is, to be blunter, about Christian practices that would be enriched, that would be thicker and more vibrant, if we took a few lessons from Judaism. It is ultimately about places where Christians have some things to learn.

Jews do these things with more attention and wisdom not because they are more righteous not because God likes them better, but rather because doing, because action, sits at the center of Judaism. Practice is to Judaism what belief is to Christianity. That is not to say that Judaism doesn’t have dogma or doctrine. It is rather to say that for Jews, the essence of the thing is a doing, an action. Your faith might come and go, but your practice ought not waver.”[1]

Winner describes a number of spiritual practices that she thinks might enrich the spiritual journeys of Christians – practices like candle lighting, hospitality, fasting, aging, weddings … there are many more.

A spiritual director once asked me to make a list 20 things that bring me joy. It was at a very busy time in my life and I had a hard time getting to half a dozen. Her point was to make the list and then to be intentional about making time for those moments. In the months since I officially retired I have tried to intentionally think about that question – “what brings me joy”? And of course, it will change over time.

Here are a few for me:

Having tea, coffee or lunch with a friend

Sitting quietly and colouring a mandala

Music

Knitting while watching TV (usually … unless it is a complicated pattern that I have to pay attention to … sometimes there’s not a lot of joy in that!)

Reading … these past months it has been mystery series … Ellie Galloway, Martin Walker, Louise Penny, Rhys Dylan, Ausma Zehanat Khan

Watching episodes of Father Brown or Endeavour – no matter how many times I have seen them before. (I could probably add to this list …)

Listening to a Krista Tippet’s On Being podcast (Home | The On Being Project)

Sitting by water (BIG water like the ocean, or the Great Lakes) and beaches (see picture above)

What brings you joy, and how do you make sure you incorporate those activities into your day or week?



[1] Winner, Lauren; mudhouse sabbath, Paraclette Press; 2007; p.viii-ix

Old Stories, New Stories, Our Stories

Did you hear the story about Eutychus, in the book of Acts? He is the youth who fell out of a third story open window late one night while listening to one of the apostle Paul’s very long sermons. (Spoiler alert: he died, but Paul brought him back to life).

         No? How about Deborah, the wise woman who counseled many while she sat under a palm tree … dispensing her wisdom in the midst of the oppression of her people?

         Or, what about the five daughters of Zelophehad, who successfully challenged an unjust law in the highest courts of the land so that they could inherit their father’s land and carry on the family name?

         Some of you may have heard the great Louis Armstrong singing “Shadrac, Meshach and Abednego” (check out this youtube video - Louis Armstrong - Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego (youtube.com) … but do you know the story from the book of Daniel, when they refused to bow down to a golden idol and ended up in the fiery furnace? (again, spoiler alert: God saved them).

         By now, you know that I love a good story. Whether it is a book, or a movie, or a family story told over the years, I think that stories make up the fabric of our lives.

         A good story helps us to tell our own story, and when we tell our own stories, we get close to our authentic selves – who we truly are in the deepest of our being. When we see ourselves in a story, or relate a story to something we notice in our own lives, we understand ourselves and the world around us a little better.

         Perhaps we notice the people today that are challenging unjust laws, and feel compassion. Or, we are reminded of the times in our own lives when we, like Jonah, have tried to run away from something that we feel we have been asked to do because it just feels too hard. Or, maybe your strong faith has moved you to perform radical acts of hospitality like Lydia did for Paul and the other apostles in the Book of Acts.

         These are just some of the 16 people you will meet in our upcoming Faith Study.

In the participant study journal, there is beautiful artwork with accompanying artists’ statements, questions for personal reflection and group conversation, and space to journal. The series is described as being about “ordinary people of faith – doing what they can with what they have to make a difference”, looking at  “16 bold stories of those often overlooked in our biblical narratives.”

         In the artist’s statement for the piece “They stood” (pictured below), Lauren Wright Pittman writes:

         “The text says the women came forward; they stood, they spoke, they questioned, and they even demanded. Any one of those actions alone is difficult for the unseen and unheard. All they wanted was to receive the inheritance of their father and to keep his name from fading. I’m sure the pain of their father’s death was potent, but they needed to be recognized, valued, and seen as human beings in order to survive.

The catalyst for this moment isn’t only the women’s strength; it also took a man in power to listen, to open his heart, to wrestle, and to offer his grasp over this patriarchal law to God. When Moses offered up his control and dared to consider a new way, God heard the voices of these women. “They are right,” God said. The old law was no longer suitable, so God made way for change. Though the laws were probably carved into stone, God shows us in this text that the law is living, breathing, adaptable, and changing.

This text invites us to come forward, to stand, to speak, to question, and to demand change when we experience injustice. When the powers in place don’t budge, that is not the end of the story. When you personally aren’t experiencing injustice, that does not mean you should bask in your comfort. For those whose voices are less valued, for those who go unseen, for those who have fought a long and continuing fight, we must breathe life into those old, tired, worn-out laws. In this image, the winds of change, the breath of God, surrounds the tent of meeting and the voice of God descends on these women, hearing their cry. New life sprouts from the ground as the law is heard afresh.”

         Some of the stories featured in the series you might have heard before, and some of the stories may be entirely new to you. I hope you can join us, in person, or by zoom, at 7 pm on Wednesday September 18 to add your voice to the conversation. Email or call the office to let us know you are coming so we’ll have the materials ready for you, or we can send them to you electronically.

Image: They Stood, Lauren Wright Pittman, Sanctified Art Study Journal, sanctifiedart.org

Visiting Martha part two

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about all my little tchotchkes (definition: a small object that is decorative rather than strictly functional) that have traveled with me and have been on display in my many offices over the years. Items that remind me of special people and moments.

And, there is also all my “Jesus stuff” – action figures, pencil toppers, a bobblehead, sticky notes, a last supper lunchbox … at home I even have a Jesus salt and pepper shaker (don’t worry – if you ever come to dinner at my place, it never appears on the table – it is strictly decorative, way up on a shelf in my home office …).

Perhaps it all seems a bit irreverent to you. Most of them are gifts. When people heard that I was fascinated by my Jesus Action Figure (mostly from a “why? Who thought this was a good idea? Who actually buys this?” perspective) … people started giving me gifts of Jesus stuff that they would come across. Hence the collection - that I really don’t know what to do with now, except write blogs about them, and sometimes bring an item to meetings for reflection.

Yesterday, we (well, mostly Dana and Jimmy) got a few posters up in my office. Posters that I have collected over the years. Many are from a curriculum that was popular about 20 years ago called Seasons of the Spirit. Every unit came with a set of posters, and each poster has information about the artist and a short reflection about the image. They were beautiful, thought provoking, and very conversational.

Many were paintings and portraits of Jesus over the years.

Just as how I reflected last week about it making sense to me that different people would imagine God in many different ways, I think that it makes sense that folks would imagine Jesus in many different ways. In fact, scholars point out that Jesus would have been a much darker skinned man than many white people in the world have pictured. So I also was intrigued to find many images of Jesus in this poster collection.

Images from many different cultures and contexts – indigenous, black, young, old, rich, or poor, or even Jesus laughing. Images through the ages.

For example, try googling “Christ of the Breadline” or “Jesus laughing”.

Part of my collection is a poster from the Student Christian Movement (SCM). For those of you that don’t know about SCM, it is a 100 year old grass led network, passionate about justice, community in diversity, and radical faith in action. SCM still exists on many campuses across Canada and the world. (see scmcanada.org)

The poster was created many years ago when the Student Christian Movement of Canada had a talented and clever artist as one of their National Directors. The poster goes through the whole alphabet, with a little cartoon and a caption for each letter, each one based on a story about Jesus. I have used the poster many times as a Bible study, especially with youth and young adults.

I even laminated and cut one poster up into puzzle pieces, and as we put the pieces together we talk about all the different stories of Jesus.

It starts out … A is for Activist … the caption says “Jesus stirred up trouble in the streets …”  B is for Black; “Jesus was from Palestine, so the odds of him looking like the blue-eyed, brown-haired guy on the wall of your Sunday School class are pretty slim.” C of course … is for Carpenter. “Jesus worked most of his life in an average Joe job.”

D … Displaced. “Jesus was a refugee. This is Jesus and his family running away to Egypt because Herod was killing all the babies.”

Many of the youth like Q … for queer positive, with the caption “Jesus liked to hang out with the marginalized and oppressed”, with a bubble near Jesus saying, “Hi, I’m Jesus, wanna go for coffee?”

In the gospel of Mark, chapter 8, Jesus asks his disciples “Who do others say I am?”, and, “Who do you say I am?” The exchange between Jesus and his disciples implies that who others say Jesus is may not always be who you say Jesus is.

We get to know Jesus by getting to know how he lived his life, who he hung out with, how he treated people, what he taught.

How do you think about Jesus? Who do you say he is? If you want some help thinking about it, drop by my office sometime.

Ask Me About - August 2, 2024

I am delighted to have the privilege of being appointed as your minister for the next year. I want to say thank you for the welcome messages I have received from folks this past week, and I look forward to meeting all of you, in person or electronically, over the next few months.

I know that in the past few years, you have looked forward to a daily reflection from your minister. I am pretty sure that I won’t be able to keep up that pace. But, I will commit to sending out at least one reflection each week during my time here.

Some thoughts and ideas might be shamelessly plagiarized (with accreditation of course) from the many blogs and theologians that I read on an ongoing basis. Or, perhaps from the Lenten Study that I wrote for the United Church of Canada in 2017 called Parables, Prayers and Promises, Some thoughts on Jesus.

Some reflections might be about the coming week’s worship theme. And some may be me sharing surprising moments of awe and wonder that I have experienced throughout the week.

        This week – I thought I might tell you a bit more about me, and who you have hired to be your minister for a year. There is some background information about my ministry and employment history in the announcement from the board. And, there is a bit of information about my family added to the general bio on the website.

But perhaps you would like to know a bit more.

My friend in Northern Ireland, when introducing himself at an event, after some very brief remarks, often said … during the break or our meal time you are free to ask me questions. He would say … you could  “ask me about the time when I met … and then he would name a famous person … ” … or “ask me about my work with …” and he might name a specific group of people – or “ask me about the time the youth group set off the fire alarm in the village.”. It immediately created a curiosity, and a desire for more information.

So for me, for example, you could …

        … ask me about the time I spent three months at the Corrymeela Peace and Reconciliation Centre in Northern Ireland, and the 10 return trips that I did with university students and church folks.

Or, perhaps you might want to ask me about why I take the stairs one at a time … and I will tell you a little about my catastrophic injury 9 years ago in my St. John’s office that ruptured my Achilles tendon, caused me to be in a cast for 8 months, and resulted in 2 surgeries.  Or … perhaps you even might want to ask me about the time many years ago when I was in a band singing Irish songs throughout the Maritimes[MM1] . (That’s one of my two truths and a lie statements!)

Or … one of my favourite topics, “ask me about the GO Project, a United Church youth program. (Spoiler: my daughter Alana Martin, also a Diaconal Minister, is the lead staff to this program.)

        I am happy to fill in the details in our conversations later. In the meantime, here a few things to know about me as we begin our journey.

Number 1:

        I am a Diaconal Minister in the United Church of Canada. Many of you might ask … what exactly is a Diaconal Minister? We get that a lot.

        In the United Church of Canada, there is one Order of Ministry with two streams of ministers – Ordained ministers, and Diaconal ministers. Where ordained ministers are ordained to the ministry of word, sacrament and pastoral care, diaconal ministers are commissioned to the ministry of education, service and pastoral care. However, most members of the order of ministry in reality are involved in all of the aspects of ministry.

The training for diaconal ministry is quite different from ordained ministry, in that it focuses more deeply on an action/reflection model, and in the areas of education, justice and pastoral care.

Number 2:

Although I have lived over 45 years in Halifax, Nova Scotia, I actually grew up in Toronto. I came to Toronto in 1977 – that part relates to the question about singing Irish songs with the band. I still have family and good friends in Ontario that I try to visit when I can.

Number 3:

I like to refer to movies, books, songs, poems, paintings, TV shows, news articles … pop culture in general, in my sermons and studies. I don’t believe that as Christians we can make sense of our ancient story unless we can apply it to our everyday lives – and most of us are consumers of the culture around us in some way.

I began to do this very early in my career – working with youth and young adults, and in university chaplaincy. I find that culture helps us connect with the biblical story in new ways.

And finally, Number 4:

    An important focus in my personal life and in my ministry recently is about

discovering how I can be part of (in the words of a decades old United Church of Canada resource), “mending the world” … and how to best walk in solidarity with marginalized folks in our communities. For example, people with disabilities, racialized people, indigenous peoples, or the LGBTQIA2S community to name just a few.

Especially in the past few years, I have learned that this means continuously understanding and confronting my own white privilege, unpacking the baggage and biases of my own history, and naming racism, ableism, classism, and homophophia.

It usually means a lot of listening, and often sitting in a place of discomfort for a time.

I am on a learning curve with this one and I am always looking for companions to do this work, and learn, with me. It is not easy work. I know that this congregation is already doing some of this work, and I look forward to walking with you as we worship, plan and grow together over the next year.

I love to share ideas, and firmly believe that conversation and deep listening enhances understanding and relationships. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you would like to meet – (and ask me questions! …) either by phone, email or in person.

Changing Seasons - August 9, 2024

This past week when I was in the office I asked Dana and Glen for ideas about what to write my weekly reflection about. “What about the changing seasons?” offered Glen. He proceeded to describe all the changes in Bethany’s garden that he sees on a daily basis and how much he delights in watching it each day.

        All I could think of was what a horrible gardener I am.

        I tried for many years to be a successful gardener. Perhaps I didn’t have the patience, or the time, to really give it what it needed. I don’t remember ever having much success, even with house plants.

        My spouse took it up when he retired about 10 years ago. And this summer is the first summer in 5 years I have actually been around to enjoy his efforts. He is the first to tell you that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Each year he buys a selection of plants that he likes and recognizes, and what he thinks will work, paying attention to the little tags that tell you how much sunlight and water each plant needs. And then he puts them all together in containers of many different sizes and shapes and distributes them around the yard. There is no pattern. No overall plan.

And then he patiently cares for them all throughout the summer.

        We have a very small city back yard. These days it is a riot of colour as the flowers continue to bloom and spread all around the perimeter. And I just sit back and enjoy the view. And marvel at the diversity and randomness of it all. And it’s true – every day I see something different.

This is a picture of a place called The Burren in County Clare in the west of Ireland. It consists of about 250 square kilometers, known as a karst landscape, which means that it is formed from the dissolution of soluble rocks such as limestone and gypsum, and is characterized by underground drainage systems with sinkholes and caves. It comes from the Irish word boireann, which means a rocky place. It is often referred to as “fertile rock”, because of its mixture of herb and floral species.

        I visited The Burren in 2015. I really didn’t know what I was looking at until I did a bit of research on the internet. In fact, this is the largest and most accessible karst region in the world, and the only place on the planet that Artic, Mediterranean and Alpine plants grow side by side.

In this environment, acid loving and lime loving plants grow adjacent to one another and woodland plants grow out in the open with not a tree nearby to provide shade from the sun. All this, in a land that appears to be composed entirely of rock.

I do remember our tour guide telling us that, and also that the reason there was such a diversity of plants is because of the migration of birds, and the seeds contained in their droppings.

        It’s a very popular tourist area in Ireland, and it is also becoming very big in the area of ecotourism. There is also a diversity of small animals and other animals, insects and butterflies. There are many wedge tombs and megalithic tombs in the area, proving that people have been living in The Burren for 5,000 years.

        If you are curious, you can find lots more information about it if you google The Burren. You will find lots of pictures, videos and information.

        The Burren always reminds me that God’s world is unpredictable, and uncontrollable, and full of surprises. It reminds me that creation often has the ability to adapt to its surroundings, and that it is also a place where everything changes, and everything belongs. And that is good news. For everyone.

We appreciate all donations to the church.