This next adventure is particularly significant because as you read this column, our move to the home of our retirement will be complete, and within a few days, after nearly 40 years of employment and service in the Diocese of Toronto, I will wake up on Oct. 1 no longer employed!

Memories can be a splendid gift from God. While packing up house (and, to a degree, a career) the memories came flooding back – some happy, some sad, some funny, some devastating, all summed up in the bishop’s charge to me at my ordination “to love and serve the people among who you work, caring alike for young and old, strong and weak, rich and poor,” all part of the reality of the human condition.

Memories: spending times with a wonderfully articulate transient man, his face covered in eczema, as he told me of his experiences of sleeping in burned-out garages, always on the move, never treated well by what he called “suits,” mostly striking unintended fear in the eyes of those who saw him and walked by on the other side of the road; hearing the panicked words of a seven-year-old junior bridesmaid who had consumed a super-sized Coke just before the wedding began and now, as the vows of marriage were being heard, cried out in a loud voice, “I have to pee, its coming out, now!”; standing before two caskets at the funeral of an adult friend and his mother, both killed in a tragic car accident; struggling to find words to say at the funeral of a teenage suicide victim in a church filled with confused high school students; celebrating with two congregations – one in Stouffville, the other in Aurora – their massive accomplishments of opening a church to the Glory of God; trying to suppress laughter as a funeral director slipped into the hole at a grave-side committal; sitting, praying and singing with many people in the holy moment they drew their last breath; advocating in the public square for those whose voices were not being heard.

Memories: of so many gifted students, assistant curates and associate priests with whom I worked who had said “yes” to God’s call to ordained ministry; sitting with my wonderful secretary, our two desks facing each other in a cramped office which doubled as the sacristy, as she answered the phone with a “let me get Father Phil for you”, covering the mouth piece of the land-line phone and passing it across the desks to me; sharing Bible study and prayer group time with some remarkably faithful servants of Jesus Christ; directing a number of youth choirs and, with my colleague in a neighbouring parish, offering music camps at the former Camp Artaban and introducing young people to the glories of church music; offering the sacraments to those precious people in hospitals and nursing homes; proclaiming the Good News of Jesus Christ and marvelling in the wonder of a new-found faith; ordinations as a deacon at my home church on the hottest May day of that year, under the even hotter glare of cable TV lights, and priested a year later at our beloved cathedral church and made a bishop in the same place; meeting and knowing people from around our diocese and our Anglican Communion, people of faith simply trying to live as disciples of Jesus Christ.

On a very personal note, my marriage to my marvellous wife, the births of my extraordinary boys, their marriages and the births of two adorable granddaughters are profound memories. I acknowledge with deep gratitude the debt I owe them for allowing me to spend so much time away from them serving the Lord and the church I love.

Memories can be a splendid gift from God, but I have learned that they are not where life is lived. Dwelling in the past is ultimately unhelpful and unproductive. Life is lived in the now, in the present, as we move confidently toward God’s future. Time marches on.

On Sept. 17, our Synod will radically alter the lives of three individuals and offer them the unique opportunity to serve as holy bishops in the Church of God. You have a gifted group from which to choose, and led by the Holy Spirit, I am certain you will do your work well. In every generation, God faithfully raises up men and women for leadership in the church. I pray when they come to the point of retirement they might look back with humility, gratitude and amazement at the joy and wonder of God’s great gift of life lived as an ordained person. May they know the love, prayers and support of our diocese in the manner you have offered to me over these many years.

I am grateful for the past and for memories. I am very excited to live the next chapter of life that God has in store for me as I continue my visit to God’s creation as a disciple of Jesus Christ.

The episcopal ring given to me by family at my consecration as bishop is inscribed with the words “Soli Deo Gloria.” May God bless our diocese as we seek to be faithful witnesses to the Good News. Remember the words of Archbishop Despond Tutu: “You hold the reputation of Jesus in your hands.”

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To the Clergy and People of the Diocese of Toronto,

We are in the midst of the Easter season, when the death and resurrection of Jesus and the new life we are offered in him are at the forefront of our personal prayers, our public liturgies and our teaching. The issues of life and death are also in the forefront of public discourse, with the violence of war and terrorist attacks killing innocents in so many places, the ecological disasters that lead to sudden death from catastrophe or the slow death of starvation, or the tragic epidemic of youth suicides that devastates too many indigenous communities. It is in these contexts that I write, with the support of the area bishops, about the upcoming changes in Canadian law regarding medically assisted death. (The terminology keeps changing.)

The Anglican Church of Canada has addressed this issue for a number of years. As a church, we have extensive pastoral experience, to add to our biblical, theological and moral traditions, to call upon. I commend to you an excellent resource, “Care in Dying,” first published in 1998, to assist our church in reflecting on the debate. It distinguishes between termination of life support, ending treatment and euthanasia (voluntary, involuntary and non-voluntary). As importantly, it puts the discussion of the debate in the framework of the call to care. Caring at the end of life is not only about medical practice, technology and legal doctrine. It raises the moral, ethical and pastoral obligations placed on all of us to respond to individuals, families, professionals and communities in a variety of circumstances.

The Supreme Court of Canada’s decision in February 2015 declared unconstitutional existing laws prohibiting physician-assisted dying. It ruled that “a competent adult person who (1) clearly consents to the termination of life and (2) has a grievous and irremediable medical condition (including an illness, disease or disability) that causes enduring suffering that is intolerable to the individual in the circumstances of his or her condition” has this right.

A recent joint parliamentary committee has recommended extending that even further. The scope of assisted dying moves significantly beyond those who are in the last stages of a painful natural death. This may include options to pre-determine a time of death, extending the option to the mentally ill or to minors.

As Christian pastors and leaders, we find some of these very disturbing.

The Anglican Church made a substantial submission to that committee on Feb. 3, 2016, raising a number of questions that need to be considered in developing legislation and regulations that Parliament is expected to adopt in the next few months.

As archbishop, I have spoken and written publicly about my serious concerns. Among these are the reduction of the definition of “provision of care” to a medical/technical “treatment,” the almost exclusive focus on the individual in isolation from their community, and the nearly unquestioned equation of human dignity with the capacity to author independently one’s own life (and hence death).

End-of-life matters are complex, with many nuances that are not easily resolved with simplistic solutions. Anglicans hold diverse perspectives on this, but we share a core commitment, echoed in our baptismal vows, “to uphold the dignity of every human being.” We are created in the image of God and redeemed by God’s gracious love in His Son, Jesus Christ. As Christians, we find the meaning of our life and our death in relation to Jesus’ birth, life, suffering, death and resurrection.

A new document, “Living and Dying, We are the Lord’s: Resources to Assist Pastoral and Theological Approaches to Physician Assisted Dying,” has just been written (to be released shortly) by the Faith, Worship and Ministry Task Force on Physician Assisted Dying. It is worth reading. Along with “Care in Dying,” it provides us with a very helpful pastoral resource.

Whatever the outcomes of the ongoing discussions, we must recognize the urgent and ongoing need for pastoral care to the person who is dying (or who is in significant and unrelenting physical or psychological pain), to the caregivers and family, to medical personnel and to the wider community. The church is one of the chief resources for this care, and we must be prepared to offer it to the very best of our ability.

Two of the glaring gaps in the public discussion are the inadequate provision of palliative care, along with the training of medical personnel in appropriate and effective pain management. If these are not widely available and easily accessible, the impetus for assisted death is much stronger. We urge you to advocate locally, provincially and nationally for comprehensive palliative care that, both short-term and long, will directly affect far more people than medically assisted death. In both advocacy and provision of care, we can call on our extensive practical experience in ministry with the elderly, the dying, and with those who suffer from mental illness.

These are deeply emotional issues. We urge you to deepen your understanding of this matter, to read, think and pray for wisdom, to discuss this with your families and neighbours, particularly with the medical professionals in your parishes. We encourage you also to write and speak with your local Members of Parliament to express your views as they make crucial decisions about the policies, laws and investments that will govern us all for a long time to come.

“Whether we live, we live unto the Lord; or whether we die, we die unto the Lord: whether we live therefore or die, we are the Lord’s. For to this end Christ died, and lived again, that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.” Romans 14:8-9

Yours faithfully,

The Most Rev. Colin Johnson, Archbishop of Toronto and of Moosonee

along with the Bishops Suffragan of Toronto:

The Right Rev. Philip Poole, Area Bishop of York-Credit Valley
The Right Rev. Patrick Yu, Area Bishop of York-Scarborough
The Right Rev. Linda Nicholls, Area Bishop of Trent-Durham
The Right Rev. Peter Fenty, Area Bishop of York-Simcoe

The Care in Dying document can be found on the national church’s website at www.anglican.ca/faith/focus/ethics/care-in-dying/.

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My comments here are the result of a recent clash between a priest and a funeral home. They are prefaced by my understanding that funeral arrangements are in the hands of the family, and the church may or may not be invited to have a part in it.

Death is a universal human reality. If I have learned nothing else in the 38 years since I have been ordained, I know this: no one gets out of this life alive! We all die. Throughout human history, death has been marked in some way or another – simply or elaborately, with accompanying religious rites or not. There are almost as many practices around the reverent disposition of a human body as there are cultures: some bodies are interred almost immediately while others wait for weeks; some are buried while others are burned; some burial practices are on land and some are on water; some wash the body in preparation while some will not touch the dead; some have religious rites, others civil celebrations. Still others have a simple family gathering.

(While you did not hear it from me, next time your mind wanders from the liturgy in church, take a look at an article concerning funerals on page 565 in the Book of Alternative Services. It is most interesting!)

The Christian attitude toward death, while changing over the centuries, has been inextricably linked to the biblical accounts of our belief in the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the saving power found in Christ and the hope of eternal life. It is entirely fitting that the church be the place from which a Christian life is celebrated and that the ordained leader of the church be the minister of the service. The church is the one place that can mark all of life’s passages – birth, baptism, confirmation, marriage (and, yes, divorce and remarriage), joyful times, sorrowful times, and death.

That’s the theory, but what happens in practice? It is sad to say, but there is sometimes an uneasy professional relationship between the clergy and the funeral industry. Like most of life, it pays to be proactive in this area as well. Here are a couple of thoughts you might consider, remembering that all of us will die:

• Tell your family what your wishes are. In my family, we were very fortunate that both our father and our mother were very open with us about their wishes regarding their “funerals.” They spoke to us about it and they wrote it down. And, God bless them, they gave us the wiggle room to decide at the time of their deaths what was best and what was practical so that we did not live with the guilt of knowing we missed something.
• Get a will. If you don’t write down your wishes, then by default someone else will decide it for you.
• Pre-plan your funeral with a funeral director. Every funeral home offers a wide variety of services, from very inexpensive to very elaborate. Tell the funeral director that you are a member of a church and that you want the involvement of the church and your local minister. If you wish the church to be the location of your funeral service, tell them that. There is no reason they cannot accommodate your wishes.
• Pre-plan your funeral with your priest so that he or she is aware of your wishes. Write it down and have it put in the parish files. Clergy move!

In my personal experience, both as a consumer of their services and as a priest, I have enjoyed a good relationship with very professional and sensitive people in the funeral industry. But these are not always the reports I receive from clergy. There seems to be an increasing tension between the church and the funeral industry in some places.

When a death occurs, call your priest first and your funeral home second. That way, you can ensure that both professionals work together to help you and support you through this difficult time. Make sure that the cleric is consulted immediately about the time and place of the service. The funeral industry no longer assumes it is dealing with people of faith, so if you wish to have the church involved, contact it early on. Clergy will benefit from establishing a good, open relationship with all the funeral service providers in the community and sharing with them the kinds of expectations they have.

It is not surprising that more funeral services are being led by “civil celebrants” or “rent-a-Revs” than by parish clergy. Why should that be? Certainly, there is an increase in those who have no religious faith and who, for the sake of their own integrity, do not wish a religious presence. However, I suspect that is not the full reason. Here is what I have heard from funeral directors and people who don’t think they can be buried from the church. It is not complimentary: clergy do not always answer their phones and they take a day or two to get back to a family requesting their presence at a funeral; clergy are unwilling to lead the funeral services of non-members; clergy are not flexible with their calendars.

Some funeral homes report that the quality of the clergy leadership at funeral services is quite uneven. Some clergy do not take the time to meet with the family ahead of time, some try to get through the service at breakneck speed, and many provide no follow-up at all. I have fielded complaints from people on these very matters. One adult son was furious that a priest took his father’s service by coming to a funeral home 10 minutes before the start of the service and whipping through it in 20 minutes, never mentioning his father’s name once and leaving without evening speaking to the son! And to make matters worse, the father was a parishioner! Incidents like this may account for why funeral homes have taken over the ministry of bereavement counselling and follow-up, an area that once was firmly in the church’s domain.

It always saddens me when tension between funeral professionals and the church somehow infect the marking of the death of an individual. A little pre-planning and communication can make a world of difference. “Can I be buried from my church?” Absolutely.

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Milk came in the old-style metal containers or the somewhat newer glass version. It was placed in a small exterior unlocked cupboard, common to houses of the era, which also enclosed an envelope for payment. Milk did not have a long shelf life in those days and just writing this article brings back the terrible taste of sour milk – fortunately not something I have endured in the past few decades. That milk wagon was the last.

The mail was also hand-delivered to each home by the postman twice a day. Those were the days when I waited not so patiently (sadly, still a trait I have from my childhood!) for the mailman to deliver the black and white photos of NHL hockey players sent to me in exchange for the bottle collars on cans of Bee Hive corn syrup. Of course, part of the thrill for a young person then was receiving a letter in the mail with your own name on it. I am certain we never consumed all the corn syrup my parents purchased so that I might collect those photos.

Well, times have changed. Bottled milk is no longer delivered to our doors and, for most, mail is not either. But we still have milk and we still receive mail.

The church in those days was very different from what it is today. It was the center of social life for many in our town. My friends joined me in the 65-voice men and boys choir that practiced Tuesday and Thursday nights and sang Morning Prayer and Evensong most Sundays at All Saints. The Diocese of Toronto was not yet the primarily Eucharistic community it is today. Those same friends also were members of the All Saints Cub Pack and played both church league hockey and church league softball for All Saints. Not much that we did socially, aside from piano lessons, took place outside the church.

Sunday sports for children were banned during the “Divine hour of worship,” the Lord’s Prayer opened the school day, and one drugstore and one gas station opened in rota on Sunday. Sunday was a quiet day; there was a different feel to it. It did not have the busy, frenetic pace that Sundays have today.

The church is no longer the social centre of many communities and certainly not the social center for youth.

Some look back to those days with great nostalgia, longing for “the good old days,” which in fact were formerly known as “these trying times.” This was post-war Canada. Many lived a transient life seeking work. Men would show up at the rectory door looking for an always offered sandwich or drink of milk. Affluence was not so obvious and certainly nowhere near reflective of the overall wealth of our society today.

Archbishop Johnson is fond of reading the diaries of former Bishops of Toronto. He will read aloud a description of a church that was facing declining attendance, whose level of stewardship was not what it could be, that was not attracting youth, that could not find capable Sunday school leaders, that was resistant to change. Listening, you could believe that the passage was written last month, but it was actually written at the turn of the 19th century!

You would have to be from another planet not to be aware that being church today in our anti-institutional, anti-religion, secular and humanistic society is flat-out hard work. It is not easy to be church today, if indeed it ever was.

Like the milk company and the post office in Peterborough, the church today is seeking to reimagine itself, reclaim its missional ministry, seeking to try out new things in an effort to faithfully proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ in this society and to better serve the marginalized. We are making progress.  Horse drawn milk wagons and milk trucks no longer exist, and milk is not delivered to homes anymore, but milk still exists.

Change is underway as we seek to adapt to our new circumstances. Going forward, our buildings may not look the same, our liturgies and music may change, parishes may amalgamate, parishes may close –  but faithful Christians will continue to do the hard work of being church in a society longing for Good News. That’s what disciples of Jesus do, and that’s what they have always done.

I am proud of the work we are doing together throughout our diocese. We are making a difference for good in the name of Jesus Christ as the church of each era is called to do, and for that I say thanks be to God. The journey ahead may not always be smooth, but it is a journey worth taking.

(End note: in a few days from now you will be asked to vote. Do not fall prey to the apathetic temptation not to vote. Make your voice and your vote count.)

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What cathedral, basilica or church hosts an empty tomb? Many cathedrals and basilicas host occupied tombs, but only one, the Church of the Resurrection as it is known in the West and the Church of the Holy Sepulcher as it is known in the East, hosts an empty tomb.

In Jerusalem on Holy Saturday, it is the hottest ticket in town. Pilgrims, having made the journey on the pavement that bears the marks of centuries of footsteps, camp out on Good Friday night to ensure a place inside the great cathedral the next day. This is the place reflected in our Stations of the Cross, although in Jerusalem they are not simply symbols on the wall of a church but the living, breathing place on which the stations are patterned.

When the massive doors are unlocked, the pilgrims enter. First, they head up a narrow set of stairs to a place of candles and incense, where they kneel at the foot of a life-sized crucifix. They place their hands through a spot on the floor to touch the rock that many believe to be the exact place of the crucifixion. The next-to-final stop on their stations journey takes them to a slab – marble, I think – that is slightly elevated from the floor. Here, the faithful recall the preparation of the body of Jesus for burial. I have seldom experienced a site of such devotion. People kneel and pray, then wipe a piece of cloth with oil onto the slab to take back home for use in healing.

Then, just a few meters further is a richly decorated chapel, into whose entrance one is forced to bend in order to kneel at Jesus’s burial site.

For hours on Holy Saturday, the faithful file into the massive church, cram into every nook and cranny, and wait expectantly for the Holy Fire. The chanting and singing builds and echoes off the wall: “Come, Lord Jesus, Come, Lord Jesus, Come, Lord Jesus.” The Greek Orthodox Patriarch, as he has done for some 1,700 years, processes in and is physically searched by police to ensure he is carrying nothing into the Empty Tomb. He enters, and then the miracle happens. No one seems to know how, but from inside the tomb a small flame mysteriously, miraculously appears. The Holy Fire is then taken from the Empty Tomb and shared with pilgrims, who are holding tapers and are now whipped into a total frenzy. The light of Christ spreads through the crowd. An awaiting car takes the original fire to the airport, where it is flown to Greece.

Quite an event and one which may fill us with skepticism.

Fr. Richard Simon of Skokie, Illinois, writes, “That sort of thing seems a bit much to swallow. After all, we are living in scientific times and know that such displays of the supernatural are nonsense. (It is interesting that the comment ‘Nonsense!’ – leiros – does appear once in the New Testament. It is the reaction of the disciples to the women’s tale of the resurrection on Easter Sunday morning.)”

Fr. Simon continues: “All moderately well-educated moderns know that the Holy Fire must be a fraud. The interesting thing is that if it is a fraud, it goes back at least 1,625 years.”

So what is your response? I don’t mean to the story of the Holy Fire, although I would be interested in what you think about it – but to Easter? To the resurrection? To the Empty Tomb? Are you excited by Easter? Is there fresh strength for you in the Easter Gospel? For what do you wait expectantly? How does the light shine in you? What is your response to Easter as a follower and disciple of Jesus Christ? What do you make of the resurrection?

I came across a piece by Archbishop Rowan Williams in a book titled Tokens of Trust; An introduction to Christian belief (pages 91-92):

“The resurrection is in part about the sheer toughness and persistence of God’s love. When we have done our worst, God remains God – and remains committed to being our God. God was God even while God in human flesh was dying in anguish on the cross; God is God now in the new life of Jesus raised from death. But what is interesting about the stories of resurrection as we read them in the Bible is that they are not a series of general statements as to how the love of God is more powerful than evil or sin. They say that just as people met God’s absolute love in the face and presence, the physical presence, of Jesus of Nazareth, so they still do. They hear the call of God and encounter the mercy of God in the same face and form of Jesus – who, in the resurrection stories, does what he always did, calling the disciples to him, breaking bread with them, teaching them what the scriptures say. The resurrection displays God’s triumphant love as still and forever having the shape of Jesus. And this is why it won’t do to reduce the resurrection to something that was going on inside the heads of the disciples. If we go down that road, we lose sight of the conviction that seems so basic in the Bible, that the disciples meet a risen Jesus who is still doing what he always did, making God present in his actual presence, his voice and touch. I don’t see how we can say all that without taking seriously what the New Testament says about the tomb being empty on Easter Day.”

I have visited the Empty Tomb on a number of occasions and been profoundly moved each time by the holiness of the place. It is there that that the “two men in dazzling clothes” question, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?” and can be answered with faith that Jesus is not confined in a tomb, not shackeld by death. He is here among us now. He has taken our guilt and buried it in the tomb and offered us new life. He has risen to remove our guilt, to heal our wounds and to whisper, no shout, “Pilgrim, I adore you!” He is present in the waters of baptism, in the bread and wine given and received, and in the still, small voice. Pilgrim, I adore you! You are amazing! You are profoundly and forever loved! He is risen! We are his body!

It’s all because it’s empty.

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In September, we brought Verity to church to baptize her and mark her as Christ’s own forever. In her baptism, as in all baptisms, she participated in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Out of crucifixion comes resurrection, out of death comes new life. In her baptism, as in all baptisms, God gave her the gift of membership into a wider Christian family. As Archbishop Rowan Williams is fond of saying, baptism brings you into the neighbourhood of other Christians.

In his recent book, Being Christian: Baptism, Bible, Eucharist, Prayer, Archbishop Williams notes that the New Testament is very clear that being with Jesus is to be in the neighbourhood of other Christians. At every baptism, the gathered Christian community vows to do all in its power to support those who have just been baptized into their Christian journey. As an aside, I invite you to reflect on exactly how you live out that vow. So Verity is now a part of the great Christian family.

Three weeks before Verity’s baptism, our family gathered to celebrate the remarkable gift of life of Karen’s father. He had been ill for some time and died with courage and grace in the face of some very difficult health challenges. He was very clear he was ready to die; he wanted to die and was frustrated that he could not die. He shared with the family, who were by his side holding his hand as he breathed his last, that he had made his peace with God and prayed that God would receive him into life eternal. On what would be his last best day of health, he met his great-granddaughter at the hospital. What a precious moment that proved to be for all of our family. Birth and death. The cycle of life continues.

In a few days we will celebrate Christmas, the annual reminder of the birth of the baby Jesus in Bethlehem. Many of us will celebrate with family and friends, enjoy good times and create new memories.

Jesus, God Incarnate, was born into a family. He was utterly dependent on Mary and Joseph to provide for his every need. It is amazing to reflect on the fact that God in Jesus was utterly dependent on his human parents for his very survival. The Divine relied on the human! Jesus would be raised in a family – a family of faith – and would be schooled in the Jewish traditions. He would learn to pray and to participate in the worship of God. In his family, he learned what mattered and reflected that in his adult life.

Christmas has become a kind of once-a-year “time out” in the midst of frenetically busy lives, to tend to those whom we can so easily take for granted. We live remarkably full and busy lives while complaining that we don’t have the time to do the things we want and be with the people we wish to be with. Life has a way of being taken for granted, as does the gift of family and our relationship with God. Often it takes a shock, either good or bad, to jolt us into reflection on what really matters. Family matters. Faith matters. Relationship matters.

I hope that Christmas will be a time for us to be very present to what truly matters in life – present to friends and family, present to the Christian community, present to the needs of others and, above all, present to God in Jesus Christ. May Christmas be a time to refocus and seek the balance in life for which many yearn. May it be a time for great thanksgiving for God`s gift of the cycle of life.

One final thought. At Christmas, God bent down and kissed the world with God’s love, expressed most fully in Jesus. God loves you unconditionally. God loves you, and told you so in the birth, life, crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus.

My observation is that while we love others deeply, some of us are reluctant to tell those closest to us that we love them. A bishop friend of mine in the United States is famous for telling everyone that he meets – and I do mean everyone – that he loves them. When he ends a phone conversation, a meeting, an interview or a social gathering, he tells each person, “I love you.” When I queried him about that practice, he said, “Well Phil, God has told us to love God, love others and love ourselves. I am just following what I have been asked to do.”

“I love you” are among the three most important words we can say. May I encourage you to tell someone you love that you love them, using your words and not just your actions. Saying “I love you” matters. At Christmas, God says that to us. Now whom do you need to tell that to this Christmas?

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