I eventually decided that I would make my way to Canterbury Cathedral after the conference. I wanted to take in the life of the mother church of our Communion and to walk part of the Via Francigena. The only problem was that the day after I arrived in Canterbury, I fell ill with Covid. There was no way I could walk the trail. Eventually, I was able to spend some time around the cathedral, and I wandered through the ruins of St. Augustine’s Abbey, but I left for home feeling rather thwarted.

Three years later, a lot had changed in my life, including a move to Toronto from Halifax and settling into a new parish. I had spent 20 years in Halifax and for some time had felt a call to move further afield, but I had never taken the leap until now. Frankly, I did not want to leave home, but I also knew I needed a change. Now, after all the changes, I knew that I needed to take some time to pray. I also needed to try that pilgrimage route again. I didn’t know why I wanted to go back to Canterbury, nor did I know what I would find there, but in my heart, it seemed like there was unfinished business there.

On this second trip, I spent my first few days taking in the life of the cathedral, attending the daily offices, the daily Eucharist, sitting alone in the crypt, talking with the clergy. The rhythm and stability brought me back to myself after a very busy few months, and I was surprised to discover how familiar the cathedral suddenly seemed: it felt like home.

Eventually, I set out along the Via Francigena. I had only a week, so Rome was not on the itinerary, but I wanted to go as far as I could towards Dover and the English Channel. I was excited to see what I would discover. I found myself walking through the old city and suburbs, dodging speeding cars along old Roman roads and enjoying the tranquility of crossing farmers’ fields. It seemed like an analogy for life: moments of uncertainty followed by peace and serenity. I was surprised to discover that it, too, seemed oddly familiar and much like home, even though I had not been there before.

Of course, the Scriptures are filled with stories of pilgrimage, a desire to return home or to find a home, a place that is safe and familiar. The Old Testament, for instance, tells us about the People of God longing to find or return to a Promised Land, and in the New Testament, the Book of Revelation speaks of the New Jerusalem, a heavenly city where God will dwell with his people and we with God. Indeed, the life of God is often described in terms of pilgrimage: God sends the Son into this world, who, after a journey through suffering and death, returns home to heaven to sit at the right hand of the Father. There is also, of course, the descent of the Spirit, who comes to bring order to chaos, to guide us into all truth and lead us home.

How could Canterbury Cathedral or the Via Francengina feel like home to me, though? I was in a strange land. Initially, I thought it was because I had been to the cathedral before, and so its surroundings felt somewhat familiar. However, I had never walked the Via Francengina. It made no sense.

A few days later, while sitting at Choral Evensong back at Canterbury Cathedral, praying and reflecting on that day’s journey, it finally occurred to me: it was not the building or the surroundings that made me feel like I was at home. Rather, it was the spiritual life of the cathedral: her rhythm of daily prayer, the Scripture, the worship and the music, and knowing that I was part of nearly a millennium of pilgrims, both past and present, who had spent time in this holy place seeking after God. I felt at home with souls who, like me, were seeking to know Jesus and to make their way home to the kingdom of God; who, also like me, were seeking special graces in these holy sites where grace had been found before. My true home was to be found in Christ Jesus. Sometimes, it seems, you have to leave home in order to find home.

You don’t have to travel to Canterbury to make a pilgrimage home. The season of Lent is a spiritual pilgrimage home into the life of God that ends with the cross and the resurrection. The spiritual disciplines of “self-examination, penitence, prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, and by reading and meditating on the word of God” (see page 282 of the BAS) are the means of that pilgrimage – the way in which we make our way home to Jesus. At Canterbury I found that my true home is a life lived with Jesus Christ. I hope you will find the same this Lent and make your way home to him.

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A parishioner of St. Philip, Etobicoke, Mr. Busonga first encountered the church through Sunday worship. During the week, he asked the Rev. Mike Stuchbery, incumbent, and his wife, Tracy Pratt-Stuchbery, the church’s music director, if he might also come by to sit, reflect and be present in the space. The answer was simple and unqualified: he could.

What mattered most to him in those early months was not a program or an invitation to volunteer, but the openness of the church itself. In contrast to the crowded temporary accommodations – a grouping of hotels on Dixon Road – where Mr. Busonga and many newcomers begin their lives in Canada, St. Philip’s offered something quieter: a place to pause, think and pray.

He describes those hours in the church not as isolation, but as grounding. Sitting in the pews allowed him to orient himself – to reflect on where he was, what he was learning, and how he might begin to build a life shaped by mutual trust and contribution.

“I trusted the space first,” he says. “Everything else came after.”

Getting ready

That spirit of trust did not exist by accident. Long before St. Philip’s became a hub for community partnerships and newcomer outreach, the parish had done extensive work to make its building ready – accessible, welcoming and functional. A major capital campaign prior to the pandemic had modernized the facility.

And after the pandemic, parishioners had done the work to make themselves ready. “We had done anti-racism training as a parish, so when newcomers arrived, we weren’t starting from zero,” says Ms. Pratt-Stuchbery. The work, she explains, “made us look at ourselves first – at our language, our assumptions, the ways we might be operating without realizing it. It helped us understand that welcome isn’t just what you do, it’s how you are.”

The combined result was a place and a people ready to be trusted, both physically and spiritually. That trust became indispensable as this nearly 200-year-old church – one of the oldest in the Diocese of Toronto – began to write a new chapter in its life, one that included a call to serve an entirely new congregation of more than 70 people who, like Mr. Busonga, were seeking asylum and navigating the unfamiliar systems of a new country.

“Mike and I went on a short vacation after the pandemic, and when we came back, people were saying to us, ‘Come and meet your new congregation!’” says Ms. Pratt-Stuchbery. “The next task was to figure out a way to grow together. Not us and them, but how do we grow together?”

One of the first shared experiences came through food. Ms. Pratt-Stuchbery recalls a conversation with a longtime churchwarden whose family is from Nigeria. “He said, ‘You know, what they’ll want is to be able to eat their own food.’”

The parish opened the kitchen. One member went shopping with a newcomer to make sure the right ingredients were chosen. They cooked together all day and invited the wider congregation to a meal. “We had this huge spread of African food,” says Ms. Pratt-Stuchbery. “One of their first experiences of St. Philip’s was coming here and eating their own food.”

For Michelle Parkin, a parishioner whose family has been part of St. Philip’s since the late 1970s, it felt like another major turning point in the church’s long story of change. “I’ve seen people grow old here – families who started out as youth here and stayed,” she says. “And I’ve also seen generations leave. So when new people started coming with real physical needs, the question wasn’t whether we would respond. It was how we would become a community together.”

New initiative

This process of careful discernment, coupled with meaningful action championed by Mr. Busonga and supported by the parish, eventually led to the establishment of the church’s Ontario Integration Initiative. A previously underutilized space in the parish hall is now home to wellness circles addressing mental health and trauma, youth leadership training sessions that create pathways for newcomers to mentor one another, and cultural exchange gatherings that bring parishioners and neighbours into shared space. Healthcare and academic partners, including Trillium Health Partners and Toronto Metropolitan University, have also become involved.

In November 2025, the Anglican Foundation of Canada approved a $15,000 grant to support the next phase of this ministry, including expanded wellness programming and leadership development for newcomer youth. The funding affirms that St. Philip’s has become a credible convener and a builder of partnerships, but for Mr. Busonga, the ministry’s origin story remains rooted in that quiet, still, open worship space. Before there were partnerships, programs or grants, there was a church where he could sit quietly, away from the noise, and begin to imagine a new future.

“At some point, you don’t just want to be helped anymore,” he says. “You start asking, ‘What can I do? How can I give back?’ People opened doors for me. They gave me space. And when that happens, you feel a responsibility – because you’ve been trusted.”

Café welcomes all

Two hours east of Etobicoke, in the lakeside town of Port Hope, the parish hall at St. John the Evangelist fills early. Upstairs, there is a midweek worship service at 10 a.m. Downstairs, in the newly established Emmaus Café, volunteers set tables, brew coffee and prepare food as neighbours begin to arrive.

“This is a pay-as-you-like café,” explained Penny Nutbrown, the church’s food program coordinator, in an interview for CBC’s Ontario Morning in December. “Folks come from all over Port Hope, and a few from Cobourg.”

The café, which operates every Wednesday morning in the parish hall, serves hot meals and homemade pastries. But food, Ms. Nutbrown makes clear, is only part of what is being offered.

The café is open to anyone. Some patrons arrive after attending the Wednesday service, while others stop in on their way to the food bank next door. Still others come because they’ve heard the food is good. On a given morning, anywhere from 20 to 60 people may pass through the space.

“It’s not a soup kitchen,” she says. “It is a café. It is a space where any neighbour can come.”

That distinction matters. Emmaus Café was shaped deliberately as a place where income, housing status and social position recede, and a true feeling of equality takes precedence.

“Our goal here – why it’s important that we sit together as neighbours – is that we can get rid of titles, we can get rid of labels, we can get rid of presuppositions,” she explains.

The café grew out of a rotating community dinner hosted by local churches before the pandemic. When that network fell away, St. John’s stepped forward. “At that time, it was just us,” she recalls.

The café began two years ago and has since drawn support from multiple partners, including a $2,500 grant from the Anglican Foundation of Canada in 2024.

Ms. Nutbrown is quick to point out that the cafe is not defined by who is receiving help and who is offering it. “Most of the people who come in here want to help,” she says. “They don’t want to take. They want to be part of the community.” Volunteers range in age from young children to people in their nineties, and regular guests often move easily between tables and tasks. Some help clear dishes. Others stay to talk. The distinction between host and guest is intentionally porous.

The cooking itself is overseen by Deacon Deb Chapman, a professional chef and longtime parish leader who coordinates the kitchen and menu each week. Deacon Chapman is widely known in the community for her generosity and skill, and many residents describe the cafe as serving the best meal in town at any price.

Supporting Church’s presence

The stories at St. Philip’s and St. John’s are rooted in parish spaces, but the same commitment to trust, equality and accompaniment is present in other forms across the Diocese of Toronto. Taken together, these ministries reflect a broader shift in how the Anglican Foundation of Canada is understanding and supporting the Church’s presence in local communities. In 2025, community ministries represented half of all grants awarded by the foundation nationwide, signalling a growing recognition that transformational ministry often emerges through partnership, accompaniment and long-term commitment – whether rooted in parish life or carried through wider systems of care.

“There’s a real joy in being able to support ministry in all its forms,” says Scott Brubacher, executive director of the Anglican Foundation of Canada. “What we’re doing, increasingly, as a foundation is to come alongside exactly this kind of faithful, local work. Not to direct it, but to recognize it, and encourage the variety of ways in which Canadian Anglicans are meeting people where they are, with humility and care.”

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Who was St. Cuthbert? Cuthbert was a native of the Scottish border country and a 7^th-century monk whose ministry garnered him the love and respect of those he served. Cuthbert travelled widely, spreading the word of God, and ultimately served as Bishop of the Holy Island of Lindisfarne, which is located off the English coast of Northumberland. He died in 687 AD and was buried on the Holy Island. Approximately 200 years later, his remains were removed from the Island when the community was threatened by Viking raids. They are now entombed in Durham Cathedral in northern England.

Pilgrims who wish to follow in St. Cuthbert’s footsteps walk a 100 km path from Melrose Abbey in Scotland to the Holy Island in England. Both the journey and the destination are central to the experience. The waymarked route over established rights of way traverses a wide variety of landscapes, including river valleys, fields of wildflowers, green grasses, golden gorse and canola, sheltering woods, and barren, wind-swept moorland. At times the Way travels along the remains of two Roman roads and follows the meandering River Tweed.

Preparing to walk

Our story of pilgrimage began with a commitment to walk, which encompassed physical, spiritual and relational preparation. Success in this endeavor required us to engage in a considerable amount of walking over many months to develop the needed strength and stamina to make the journey. A group meeting at the outset, and later a full-day retreat, laid the foundation for our community to form and flourish as we reflected deeply on the meaning of pilgrimage. Planning included developing pilgrim protocols to guide us on our walk. Clear expectations, which included shared responsibilities for tasks and a resolution to leave no one behind on the path, enabled us to focus unencumbered on the walk before us.

In advance of our pilgrimage, we flew to Edinburgh and spent the next day acclimatizing to the time change. We then made our way by bus to Melrose at the western end of the Way, where our six-day pilgrimage commenced. Our days followed a familiar rhythm. Each morning, we gathered for updates and listened to a reflection offered by one of the pilgrims before setting out. The first hour we walked in silence. Together we crossed terrain that at times was very challenging. St. Cuthbert’s Way took us through diverse landscapes – rolling hills, narrow, tortuous and sometimes rocky paths, as well as steep ascents and descents. We crossed streams, climbed over stiles, gave wide berth to cows tending their calves, and met fellow travelers. The path could be flat, but it was often hilly, and the distances were long. We walked roughly 15 to 20 km each day. Along the way we visited the ruins of both Melrose and Dryburgh abbeys and participated in three Eucharists led by clergy who were part of our community. After each full day of walking, we arrived at our lodging, grateful for some rest and a shower, before gathering for dinner and then an early night.

Pilgrimages are walked at an intentionally slower pace and, as such, keep you grounded. We put one foot in front of the other and were fully present. Free of everyday demands and distractions, the chatter of the mind settles. And then each of us, upon pausing to take in the surrounding beauty, found ourselves surprised by joy. We encountered the beauty of God’s nature throughout our pilgrimage. In addition to the stunning landscapes and flora, we interacted with hares, many birds, horses, cattle (both intimidating and benign), and innumerable sheep.

Unforeseen circumstances

Like all pilgrims, we sometimes faced unforeseen circumstances, such as changes to the itinerary or personal challenges. Pilgrimages can be hard on one’s body, especially one’s feet. However, imagination and flexibility enabled us to address issues with good humour and faith in ourselves to move through difficulty.

One of the many delights of engaging in a pilgrimage is an opportunity to interact with citizens of other countries, mostly those who live and work on the pilgrimage route, but also those who come from around the globe to walk. On St. Cuthbert’s Way, local residents and other travellers welcomed us with open arms. A sense of hospitality was present throughout.

On Good Shepherd Sunday, a group of pilgrims had the unexpected pleasure of being invited into the Bowden Kirk (lured by shortbreads, milk and a clean bathroom), where they spent time chatting with their host and playing with his dog. A few days later, one member of our group developed a serious case of pneumonia. He spent the better part of two days at a hospital in Scotland, where he experienced amazing medical care. His spouse also experienced the support of local residents, one of whom went out of his way to ensure that she safely made it back to her hotel from the hospital in the middle of the night. At our last stop on the Holy Island, a hotel booking mishap led to the possibility that two of our pilgrims might not have a room in which to sleep. One of the front desk staff told us not to worry, because the two would be welcome to stay at her home if no room could be found at the hotel. Ultimately, a room was located.

We encountered other delightful surprises along the way. Meeting the same pilgrims from day to day forged connections with others we were unlikely to see again. On one occasion, a few of us met three walkers who told us that a wayward sheep had crossed a fence and needed help to get back. Working together, we managed to coax the reluctant sheep through an opening to return to her bleating lambs. Such experiences highlighted the overwhelming sense of community that develops on the journey.

After five days of walking, the Holy Island was finally in sight. The approach to Lindisfarne requires pilgrims to negotiate either a paved causeway or a 2-kilometre-long pilgrim’s path over the seabed, both of which are passable only at low tide. Most pilgrims choose to walk across the sands at low tide to reach this famous Christian site – an island of about 130 people that swells with visitors when it’s accessible. Our time on the Holy Island was an opportunity to both reflect and explore. We attended a Sunday service at St. Mary the Virgin Church, which is over 800 years old and is built over the remains of an earlier Saxon church. We were warmly welcomed by the vicar, who, with a number of local residents, hosted us one evening at her vicarage.

Out of our comfort zone

Reasons for undertaking a pilgrimage are individual and personal. Some pilgrims hope to develop new spiritual insights. Others are simply open to whatever transpires. Regardless, pilgrimages can transform. They can take us out of our comfort zone to a liminal space, that thin place where the distance between our earthly domain and the next realm diminishes. Such experiences open a door to new insights and can leave us changed.

Pilgrims can also be changed by their experience within the group. Walking is a solitary endeavour, but it is best supported within a broader community. As such, the individual pilgrim is never alone. Bonds are strengthened through the companionship of walking, shared meals, song and musical accompaniment, and the power of the Eucharist. It is within community that experiences of silence and laughter, frustration and delight, exhaustion and rest, and uncertainty and faith, shape the journey of the pilgrim.

Arriving at Holy Island was a time for rejoicing. The hard work had been done. Or had it? Each of us is called to make a journey that will lead us home and be changed in how we look at life. Walking St. Cuthbert’s Way sparked a profound sense of awe and gratitude in God’s creation. That journey continues long after our walk ends, marking the beginning of something new.

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

– T.S. Eliot from “Little Gidding,” Four Quartets

Sturdy footwear and a change of socks a must

If you’re thinking of going on a pilgrimage using St. Cuthbert’s Way, here are some things to think about.

• 

  St. Cuthbert’s Way is classified by the British as being of “moderate” difficulty. It’s not! You need to train for distance and elevation by daily walks leading to some 15-20 km walks in the months before you go.

• Walking poles are very helpful (I might say essential) on many parts of the route.
• Building community beforehand is very important. Retreats and times of prayer and fellowship makes for a meaningful group experience prior to leaving.
• Engage the congregation in pilgrimage exercises before you go, so they can support you in prayer and you can carry their prayers while walking.
• If you’re thinking of going as a group, use a travel company that specializes in UK and Scotland travel. Much of the accommodation is in small pub hotels that have a limited number of rooms. If you’re thinking of going as a couple (or two), you should have no difficulty planning a year in advance for a pilgrimage. A larger group should probably plan two years in advance. The UK now requires an Electronic Travel Authorization, which you need to do online before you leave.
• Give yourself a day or two before you start in Melrose to get over jet lag. Give yourself some days after the pilgrimage to process the experience.
• There is no way to predict the weather in Scotland, but May and September are probably the best months to travel. The route can be very narrow (single file only). The steep bits are very rocky and will be muddy and slippery if it’s raining.
• You will be travelling through farmers’ fields and fairly dense gorse. Mosquito and tick protection is essential.
• Running shoes won’t do. Sturdy footwear and a change of socks will protect your feet.
• Be mindful of the tides at Holy Island. Whether you use the vehicle causeway or the original pilgrim route across the mud flats, it must be done at low tide.
• Give yourself at least two days on Holy Island. There is a lot to see and learn, and the worship experience at St. Mary the Virgin Church is a wonderful conclusion to your pilgrimage.

By Peter Bennett, a member of Redeemer, Bloor St.

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We were treated as family when we arrived. We ate local food: meat, watermelon and egg fries (chips mayai), our favourite. We developed authentic, lasting relationships with clergy and laity, young and old. There were deep discussions, jokes and laughter. We took two suitcases of school and medical supplies to give to our host, courtesy of so many of our sponsors, family and friends.

During our time in Tanzania, we participated in the Diocese of Biharamulo’s Mothers’ Union conference with 650 attendees, and we coordinated and led the Buseresere Deanery youth conference with 300 attendees.

We were blessed to witness the presence of the Holy Spirit at the Mothers’ Union conference. There was a joy, energy and vibrancy that we do not always see in our Canadian churches. There was a lot of music and dancing. Women’s ministry in the Diocese of Biharamulo is vibrant, with lay canons and evangelists. They were inspirational and passionate, and they preached from the heart. We saw the Holy Spirit moving like wildfire in the hearts and lives of the people there. During my curacy, I hope to improve my skills as a preacher so I can feel free to share the Word as passionately as they do.

We attended a presentation about church entrepreneur ministry initiated by the mothers and bank partnerships, and we listened to some great choirs. We taught them an English contemporary chorus, and our new friends translated it into Kiswahili for the group to sing together. An Australian missionary assisted with our presentation and helped to adapt it to the local culture.

At the youth conference, people came to encounter God’s love and experience His transformative power in leading and helping the community place Christ at the centre of their lives. One of the diocese’s goals for the next three years is to establish vocational training centres for youth and children. The focus scripture was 1 Peter 5:5-11. There were prayers, games, discussions, music, dancing, storytelling and a sermon. The conference ended with Jesus’ example of humility: foot washing. Everyone washed and had their foot washed in groups of 12. It was a powerful experience of the movement of the Spirit.

During both conferences, I encouraged my mom’s vocation of storytelling and sharing. My mom presented “The Essentials of the Gospel,” which was well received by youth and adults.

We were also present for the diocese’s eighth anniversary service, where we gave a small token of a Cast the Net ceramic tile from the Diocese of Toronto. The outstanding part of the service was when the bishop asked a few of the young people to pray for him. I was surprised to feel and experience the tenacity, determination and creativity as the Spirit moves in the Diocese of Biharamulo, which has doubled in size and grown to 150 churches, 30 parishes and eight deaneries in eight years. It is one of the fastest growing dioceses in the Anglican Communion. Its goal for the next three years is to plant 20 new parishes and three new deaneries. Imagine if the Diocese of Toronto could realize even half of that goal!

We celebrated our national holiday by sharing chocolate, notebooks, pencils, flags and pins with students at a school in Chato district, and they shared their school history, mandate, dances and a skit. I preached at an evening service and was gifted with handmade fabric and dinner. The believers give generously out of their limited capacity.

Throughout our visit, we saw an incredible dedication and passion for ministry. The secretary general, who assists the bishop and was our host, is currently unpaid. During our time there, he worked tirelessly for the diocese and deanery and in supporting us in ministry. We celebrated his birthday and had a drink to praise God for working in him and through him in bringing the kingdom of God to the Diocese of Biharamulo. He said that we left a lasting impact with our questions, presentations and sermons.

The believers in the Anglican Church in Tanzania have an amazing love for the Lord, yet they lack many of the resources we take for granted. Water infrastructure is vital. Lifespans are short due to poverty, hard lives and a lack of medicine and vaccines. Seventy per cent of the population is under the age of 30. One of the pastors who hosted us contracted malaria the week we left. My mom and I had the privilege of taking a daily antiviral medication so that we didn’t contract any major illnesses, but that is not their reality.

This trip taught me to trust God and depend on Him. God granted us safety, strengthened us for ministry and gave us the grace and anointing to do what we were called to do. The whole experience was a learning opportunity from start to finish – planning, preparation, logistics, schedules, accommodations, transportation, expectations, risk, patience and purpose. It opened our eyes to a whole different world. It was a great occasion to see how God is moving in the newest diocese in the Communion, especially through women and young people. My mom and I both returned with a renewed sense of mission. Living missionally is about discerning and joining God’s work in the world to be a witness to God’s kingdom on earth. This trip confirmed that as a child of God, my calling is to inspire people to become closer to God as an eyewitness and representative of the endless, impactful and active Good News.

We also gained a deeper understanding of global needs and an appreciation of God’s mission in Tanzania as we encouraged and supported diocesan and lay leaders. We continue to communicate with the leaders in the Diocese of Biharamulo. My mom and I meet weekly online with a few of the leaders to pray for our dioceses. They have a wish list of what they hope and pray for their diocese. There are many practical ways to help and encourage them – please let me know if you would like more information or to join us in prayer for this diocese. We look forward to seeing how and where the Lord will lead.

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This summer has been a tough one at Common Table Farm. By late August, six heat waves had blasted through Toronto, accompanied by multiple air quality warnings due to wildfire smoke. When you work outside, you see and feel the effects of climate change directly. Last season saw torrential rainfalls, while this year has been a drought. Climate extremes are happening in real time. And yet, the farm is a place where I experience hope. As I reflected on how we pulled through the season, I thought about our farm’s neighbours.

Gary lives nearby and is a keen gardener himself. In May, he showed up with boxes of home-grown seedlings. His gift could not have come at a better time! Our own seedlings had faced germination issues and were also slowed down by voles munching on them after being transplanted. Gary’s seedlings meant that we were still able to provide many tomatoes, eggplants and peppers to the community, while we waited for our own plants to catch up.

Marianne and Jessie also live in the neighbourhood. They both volunteered on weekends, responding cheerily to my texts asking for help with watering in the greenhouse. With such a hot summer, daily watering was required for many months. Marianne and Jessie offered us the gift of their proximity, freeing our staff to have precious weekends to rest.

We met (and named) Carl one day while weeding the rows of corn. He was carefully tucked on a common milkweed leaf, his handsome yellow, black and white stripes identifying him as the endangered monarch caterpillar. Carl kept us entertained that day: we watched him trundle on the milkweed leaves and imagined his next phase of life. Carl’s presence buoyed us with hope. Our farm not only provides organic produce to Flemingdon Park; it also provides a pesticide-free home for a neighbour who faces declining habitat.

Bob lives further away from the farm than what might be considered a neighbour, but he has definitely acted neighbourly. I met him during a speaking engagement about our farm. He comes from a farming background, and we struck up a conversation. I learned that he was a labyrinth aficionado and was very keen to visit the small labyrinth installed in our pollinator garden. He came by to walk the labyrinth but also brought along a mower and volunteered to keep the pathways trimmed. This labyrinth has been one of those projects that was a great idea at the outset, but difficult to maintain; since we prioritize the vegetable crops, we often don’t have time to maintain it. Some years, it has been disappointingly overgrown and not very useable. What a gift Bob gave to us this season. It was wonderful having our labyrinth lovingly maintained by someone who deeply appreciates this feature of our farm!

A final neighbour of notable mention visited me on a hot August day. We had been hauling vegetables to Flemingdon Park for distribution. I was tired from driving back and forth, lifting heavy loads and fielding questions from community members. When I returned to the farm, I decided to take a moment’s rest. As I watched goldfinches flit to and fro, a fast-moving shape caught my eye. A ruby-throated hummingbird zipped past! She paused near the eggplants, then hovered by a trellis, drinking nectar from a bitter melon flower. I was entranced by this rare and special neighbour. While she was tiny and I only saw her for a brief moment, the joy and delight she gifted to me was tremendous.

This season was incredibly hot and dry, tough on the bodies of those working at the farm. But we have been blessed by remarkable and generous neighbours. They have gifted us with practical help, time and skill, sharing of resources and signs of ecological hope. Our warmest thanks to Gary, Marianne, Jessie, Carl, Bob and the hummingbird, for being the best neighbours any farm could ask for.

To learn more about the farm or to support its work, visit www.flemingdonparkministry.com.

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“Grace in Every Stroke: Lenten Prayer Through Calligraphy” was the brainchild of gifted artist and parishioner Elizabeth Jackson-Hall, whose studio is in the neighbourhood. She has a degree in fine arts from the University of Toronto and a diploma from the Ontario College of Art and Design, plus specialization in religious painting.

Ms. Jackson-Hall was inspired by the diocese’s Season of Spiritual Renewal. Many people have stopped going to church, but she feels there is still a great need for the divine, a “hole in the soul to fill.” She believes that doing something practical with our hands, even sewing, knitting or carpentry, is a form of spiritual expression – especially with online, virtual and AI experiences dominating the media today. In particular, writing in calligraphy is a “form of making prayer,” as you have to form each letter so slowly. It helps us remember.

Her words obviously touched a hidden chord, for 22 men and women of all ages signed up for the series. We met every Tuesday evening for the first five weeks of Lent in a cozy, well-used room with the scent of must and old bibles, the walls lined with portraits of past ministers of St. Olave’s and snapshots of current parishioners. Three rows of folding tables and chairs had been set up. The session began with Evening Prayer in the church, and then we trooped downstairs for a light supper, buffet-style, prepared by the ACW, which we ate at our tables, not unlike rows of monks in a monastery refectory.

An opening prayer written by our incumbent, the Rev. Canon Robert Mitchell, set the sacred tone for the evening: “Grant, we beseech Thee, that as we undertake the sacred act of calligraphy, we may be led to worship Thee in the beauty of holiness.”

A quiet mood was encouraged. Of course we chatted to each other, but it was not a time for gossip.

Ms. Jackson-Hall had assembled a whole packet of art materials for each person – sheets of parchment and tracing paper, rough practice paper, bottles of India ink, straight-nibbed pens, tape, rulers, pencils, erasers, and blotters for the inevitable blots and blotches.

The idea was to take a sacred text or passage of scripture of our own choosing, trace it out in beautiful, curved chancery cursive lower-case letters and uncial Gothic capitals if desired, and then transfer it to parchment paper and illuminate. Ms. Jackson-Hall had provided samples of medieval scripts, such as the Lindisfarne Gospel, to inspire us. But it was hard work. The straight-nibbed pens took many back to their school days. There is a definite art to using the straight-nibbed pen dipped in black India ink, as we soon discovered from all the blots and blotches on the page. It’s no easy task being a monk! I had a new respect for the assiduous, meticulous labour of the old medieval monks who illuminated the entire bible by hand before the era of the printing press. We owe them much.

After we had traced our texts onto parchment paper and inked them over, we had the pleasurable task of illuminating the words with coloured inks, water colours, even gilding, adding illustrations of our own if we chose – and just letting the spirit flow! The results were imaginative and delightful – and spiritual. This was no art course but a transformative experience of “co-creation with God” and meditation. Pray, eat, work, pray. Then go home.

The experience seemed to take some of us back to our childhoods. Janice chose for her text a prayer she remembers saying as a child: “I thank Thee, O Father, for all Thou hast given me, and ask for all things, Father, lest I forget. Amen.”

It reminded her of saying her bedtime prayers. She added a delightful tiny drawing of herself as a little girl with glasses, to fill in a spare space. Monks used to fill in such leftover spaces with whimsical little drawings of birds or animals, self-portraits or scenes from monastic life.

Jean also went back in time to her school days in Huyton, England, where she’d attended a Church of England school north of Liverpool.

“There was a chapel where we met at 8:40 each morning. Sometimes I was asked to read these lines: ‘Be thou strong and of good courage, for the Lord thy God is with thee whither thou goest.’ It seemed good advice at the time. Our teachers were mainly women who had been missionaries abroad. My sister and I were confirmed in 1945.” Long-lasting memories.

William, our religious education coordinator, also fondly recalled his school days. His chosen text was, “Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, O Lord” from an Evening Prayer collect the boys recited in full at the end of afternoon classes each day.

“It has been a significant part of my life and memory since my earliest days,” he says. He found the calligraphy series “fascinating and informative.”

A number of people turned to psalms and the gospel for inspiration. Jane was reflective. Her text from Psalm 46 reverberates with calm: “Be still and know that I am God.” She drew a quiet park bench with bumblebees buzzing around and butterflies.

In contrast, 96-year-old Jack drew whimsical figures of people around the edge of his page. He claims they are not actual parishioners but based subconsciously on them. His text reads humbly, “God be merciful unto us and bless us.”

Caro, who leads Compline every Wednesday night on Zoom for anyone who wishes to participate, chose “From all ill dreams defend our eyes” from the second verse of the hymn in Compline. She had watched a TV episode about bedrooms from Lucy Worsley’s history of the home. It seems that medieval people were very afraid of spirits in the night.

Catharine also focused on home and the protective love of God with “Visit, O Lord, this place. Let thy Holy Angels dwell herein.” Home and family are of prime importance to her.

The power of love was also stressed by Michelle, who chose the famous passage from St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians: “And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” Michelle drew beautiful script and coloured a red heart. She believes that “love fuels life.” And so it does.

Susan turned to the gospel for her text, quoting the opening lines of John 3:16: “God so loved the world.”

“This verse encapsulates my Christianity,” she says. “It tells me that because I have faith I am justified.”

Agatha had been through a hard time in her life. The text “Jesus said: Come unto me all ye who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28-30) gave her great solace and strength. She illustrated praying hands in the background of her page.

Cathy chose two texts, the first from Psalm 139: “for darkness is as light to you.” She had also been grappling with words in Psalm 36, “in Thy light shall we see light.”

“I love the way the psalmist uses words here, in the fumbling way. That words can express the inexpressible, but beyond my ability to convey in calligraphy.” She added thoughtfully, “I found it took a measure of courage to follow Elizabeth’s guiding and instructions as I turned my blotches and smears into something nearer to what I was better pleased with. I appreciated Elizabeth’s patience.”

Last, but not least, Canon Mitchell showed his artistic streak in his lovely rendering of the text from Psalm 91: “He shall give his angels charge over thee and keep thee in all thy ways.”

The evening concluded with him leading us in Compline, a quiet spiritual closure to the session: “The Lord Almighty grant us a quiet night and a perfect end. Amen.”

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ELIE GETS IT!

“The Lord could be that homeless guy that you see.”

Elie gets it! “I just wandered into the Church. I eventually decided to step up to the baptismal pool and be baptized because there was a story in the Bible about all those guys that had to go to the Lord’s supper. But one guy said I’m too busy … with this, too busy with that. So, I just had to step up to the baptismal pool and just go for it. And I haven’t looked back since.” Elie turns for support to St. Stephen in-the-Field’s parish on College near Kensington Market in Toronto, a FaithWorks ministry partner. “I am unable to get my own house … because there is limited funds.” “I like to pray a lot … so that the Lord can help me.” “The problems are being dealt with by the Lord.” “The Lord could be that homeless guy that you see.”

Elie gets it! We are all created in God’s image and likeness. This is the basis for the personal relationship we can each have with God. Jesus teaches us how to have a personal relationship with God. We are taught to love God with our whole being and our neighbour as ourselves. Jesus cares so much about every human being that he says, “I was hungry and you gave me food … as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me”. (Matt. 25:35-40) He said this to teach us how to enter into the ultimate relationship with God by entering God’s kingdom.

You, our donors and supporters, get it! You know that God’s love is limitless and shared with all. You have put aside other cares and offered your time, talent and treasure to FaithWorks as a reflection of God’s love for all, especially the most fragile and vulnerable among us. You see God’s image in the people around you, even in “that homeless guy.” You have loved and shared generously, without looking back.

Thank you for your support of FaithWorks. Each and every donation makes a difference, as each and every person impacted by FaithWorks matters.

Thank you to all our donors, large or small, new or ongoing, individual, parish, corporate or foundation. Thank you to our dedicated volunteers in parishes and at the Diocese. Thank you to our ministry partners who struggle to bring well-being and security to so many.

Jesus taught us to experience our relationship with God by loving one another. Alleluia! You get it.

Thank you for giving wholeheartedly

The impact of your donation to FaithWorks was felt across the Diocese and throughout the world. The need for the services provided by FaithWorks’ ministry partners increased by 36% last year and almost 145% since 2021. This presents us with greater challenges than ever before.

In 2024, almost 49,000 people were served, including:

• 29,248 people were fed, sheltered, nurtured and befriended (up 33%)
• 16,836 refugees, new Canadians and migrant workers (up 310%)
• 9,253 Indigenous people (up 108%)
• 7,675 families in need (down 15%)
• 4,045 at-risk women, children and youth (up 37%)
• 10,464 people touched by the prison system (up 250%)
• 4,791 young adults living with mental health challenges (up 135%)
• 1,582 people impacted by HIV/AIDS (up 215%)

Thank you to our corporate and foundation donors

Thank you to our Corporate and Foundation Donors who contributed $399,800 to FaithWorks in 2024. Your generosity makes it possible to improve the lives of thousands of individuals and families.

$100,000 or more

• Anglican Diocese of Toronto Foundation

$50,000

• BMO Bank of Montreal
• Fast Family Foundation

$25,000

• New England Company

$15,000

• Anglican Foundation of Canada
• Burgundy Legacy Foundation
• Letko, Brousseau & Associates

$10,000

• Canso Investment Counsel
• Estate of Peter Sabbagh
• Hayhoe Family Foundation
• Rogers Gardham ODT

$7,500 – $9,999

• Shift Happens Coaching
• Andy & Beth Burgess Family Foundation
• Manulife Investment Management

$5,000

• Foster Hewitt Foundation
• Grant Thornton Foundation
• Koskie Minsky LLP
• NHI Nurse Homemakers International
• Osler, Hoskin & Harcourt LLP
• Smith Boake Designwerke

<$4,999

• Aqueduct Foundation
• Ray & Pat Burton Foundation
• Clairmark Consulting

Thank you to our parishes

As communities of compassion and hope, our parishes are the heart of the annual FaithWorks campaign. 89% of parishes participated in the 2024 campaign. Contributions from our parishes were $866,500. Parishes retained $101,146 for local outreach ministries. Grants to the Archdeaconries for outreach totaled $43,650.

Thank you to our ministry partners

Our FaithWorks Ministry Partners struggle tirelessly each and every day to share the transforming power of God’s love with thousands of people in need. We thank our Ministry Partners for being powerful agents of the love that is changing lives and changing the world.

• A Place Called Home, Lindsay
• Alongside Hope (PWRDF)
• Anglican United Refugee Alliance (AURA)
• Flemingdon Park Ministry, Toronto
• North House, Durham
• One City Peterborough
• Philip Aziz Centre for Hospice Care, Toronto
• Samaritan House Community Ministries, Barrie
• The Dam, Mississauga
• Toronto Urban Native Ministry
• All Saints’ Church – Community Centre, Toronto
• Holy Trinity, Trinity Square, Toronto – Community Hub
• St. James’ Cathedral, Toronto – Foot Care Clinic
• St. James, Orillia – Breakfast & Lunch program
• St. Margaret, New Toronto – Outreach program
• St. Saviour, Orono – Migrant Worker Ministry
• St. Stephen in-the-Fields, Toronto – Outreach program

For more information or to donate, visit www.faithworks.ca

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Cera’s story

Compared to the constant rush of guests that we’d had visit us until a few weeks beforehand, this particular Sunday at St. Stephen in-the-Fields’ weekly breakfast program felt calm. There was time to catch up with regulars, sharing one another’s grand plans should we win the $80 million lotto jackpot that had yet to be claimed. Would an apartment in Rome do, or should the imaginary winnings be spent on gaining solitude on the far-off island of Skellig Michael?

Some new faces had appeared in the encampment outside the church, which had recently been under greater scrutiny from the city due to an accumulation of residents’ belongings that had been placed to block wind in the cold. As the parish hall began to quiet, Tucker and I had the chance to get some fresh air and introduce ourselves to the new neighbours while checking in with long-term residents. Taking orders for triple-triple coffees and sharing a chocolate bar found in the church kitchen, all seemed well.

Suddenly B, the youngest of the current encampment residents, called us over, his face panicked. “Someone needs your help over there – he overdosed,” he said, pointing to the narrow path tucked between the church and the neighbouring fence. We ran over to the figure who was lying face down in the mud.

I arrived first and was horrified to see that the individual, who I initially mistook for another encampment resident, was deathly pale. I crouched down beside him and tried to turn him onto his back, immediately thinking that our chances of reviving him were slim. His lips were blue, and his body provided no response to my efforts to rouse him. My right arm was in a cast past my elbow, causing me to mentally assess what I was physically capable of doing to assist Tucker, who had joined me with naloxone. CPR? No. Filling syringes with naloxone? Unlikely.

Tucker was checking for a pulse as I asked B for help filling the first syringe. Tucker administered the first nasal dose – the first of four doses before firefighters would arrive to take over the response. We waited with bated breath to see if the naloxone would reverse the overdose. After a minute and half, B passed the syringe to Tucker, and he administered the second dose while I was calling 911. It looked like the person had a nasal infection, so we hoped the injected naloxone would work better. We waited.

After a minute or two, the man took a rattly, choking breath, though his eyes did not open, and his lips and nails remained tinted blue. Feeling tentative relief, we rolled him into recovery position before administering another dose of naloxone. As I waited on hold with 911, the thought crossed my mind that this situation was only going to become more frequent should the Ontario government’s Bill 223 – The Community Care and Recovery Act – be enacted. Tucker and I had received significant amounts of training on how to respond to an overdose. Once 10 of the province’s 17 supervised consumption sites (SCSs) were forced to close, how many others would be required to be in our position? In addition to the obvious consequence of a devastating increase in the loss of life of some of our society’s most marginalized and vulnerable members, and the accompanying demand for already thinly stretched emergency response resources – as predicted by the government’s own internal reports – there would also be an increased need for community members to provide lifesaving care for one another.

It took eight minutes from the first dose of naloxone for medical personnel to arrive on scene. While the gentleman we supported ended up recovering from his near-death experience, what would have happened if we hadn’t had been there? Or if we carried only the standard two-dose naloxone kit provided by pharmacies? Or if B hadn’t seen his limp body in the cold, dark passage on the other side of some raised stairs? We were only maybe 10 meters away, but we were oblivious to the crisis until it was almost too late.

These are the sorts of questions that have been weighing on my mind. In the days that followed, I replayed the image of the man’s lifeless body frequently, recalling just how convinced I was that it was too late to save him. When I was alone, I wanted to be with others. But when with others who didn’t consciously engage in spaces where there was the potential for someone to overdose, all I wanted to do was be alone. I was angry and sad and scared. That’s not to say that I wasn’t proud of how we’d handled the situation. I was, and I feel much more confident to respond to an overdose in the future. But the awareness that the successful outcome was as much a result of luck as it was preparedness terrified me.

In its most basic form, community care consists of individuals recognizing one another as equal human beings who are understood to be holders of basic human rights. These rights include the rights to life, liberty and security of the person, as outlined in section 7 of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms. While the Government of Ontario may not currently have this understanding of care, Ontarians can choose to demonstrate care for one another. This can take form in many ways, including by carrying naloxone, supporting unhoused neighbours and notifying political representatives that you support evidence-based harm reduction policies.

We are in the midst of several colliding crises. Regardless of our differences in lifestyle, we have no choice but to live together, ideally with some sense of harmony. Do you have the skills and supplies to maintain the life of a neighbour who has overdosed for eight minutes? How would you respond if you couldn’t? These are the questions one should be asking themselves as we enter an era in which drug users’ access to healthcare becomes even more limited. Choosing to side with the oppressed and vulnerable is difficult and necessary. There will be days where it seems like the weight of the uphill battle is too heavy. But what other choice do we really have?

Tucker’s story

The first time I responded to an overdose, the person came to with one dose of nasal naloxone. This time, we required two doses to get some consistent breathing back, three for them to no longer appear hypoxic, and four for them to regain consciousness.

That pause and wait between doses – that, for me, is the stressful part. During the first one, you can hope for a quick response. As that doesn’t work, the thoughts of wanting oxygen for the person, and people who can do more, come to mind.

Thinking on it afterwards, I reflect that through my volunteering I have access to people to talk to afterward, and that this isn’t my usual day. The people who work at supervised consumption sites, I hope, have access to supports through work, along with professional distance. But B and others don’t have supports, and these are their neighbours – possibly strangers, possibly friends. With the closure of SCSs I expect there to be an increase in overdoses outside, where it will be other residents or the public that needs to respond. And that’s a better outcome; the other is that people are found too late.

Learn more about this year’s social justice vestry motion at www.toronto.anglican.ca/vestry-motion.

The post Eight minutes appeared first on The Toronto Anglican.

In 1955, Anglican priest/monk (and later bishop) Trevor Huddleston was recalled to England by his order after having served for 15 years as a priest in apartheid-era South Africa. He was a much-loved priest who had mostly served in a township parish. His experience at the grassroots, community level had caused him to become increasingly critical of the minority Afrikaans government and their evil apartheid policies. He left reluctantly, having felt himself deeply committed to the plight of black South Africa, and his anti-apartheid activism had connected him forever with their just cause and struggle for freedom.

On his return he published a book which is still recognized as being of historical significance. The title resonated with me as I reflected on the course of events since I arrived in Jerusalem almost six years ago. His famous book is called Naught for Your Comfort. The title is a quote from a G.K. Chesterton poem, and the stanza from which it comes is:

I tell you naught for your comfort,
Yea, naught for your desire,
Save that the sky grows darker yet
And the sea rises higher.

Huddleston left South Africa aware that the struggle for freedom had only just begun. “The sin of racial pride, the evil of the doctrine of apartheid, must be condemned by the Church and the consequences of apartheid must be clearly and unmistakenly proclaimed. This is prophecy: it is also politics,” he wrote. But it is sobering to think that when Huddleston left South Africa condemning the sins of apartheid, it was another 40 years before the apartheid infrastructure fell and an election was held in which every single South African – Black, Coloured and White people – exercised their right to vote. Huddleston was right about South Africa in 1955: it is going to be a long struggle for freedom – the sky grows darker yet – but freedom did come, in time.

I write this now not to make the case that apartheid South Africa and the state of Israel are the same thing; that is an argument case for another time. Rather, I seek to make the point, which was Huddleston’s point, that the struggle for freedom is almost always longer and harder than we imagine. Those who hope that there is a fast track to a solution for an intractable problem such as the Israel/Palestine question, may relent and give up long before the goal can be achieved. Standing as we do now, almost a year into a terrible war in Gaza and 58 years into Israel’s occupation of the West Bank and Gaza, there is still a very long way to go before all the peoples of Israel and Palestine will be able to live alongside one another in freedom, equality and security.

In my view, a reflection on the present situation in this ongoing conflict should be founded on some fundamental principles. Firstly, that Israel has a right to exist on the basis of the UN Resolution 181 dating from 1947. Secondly, that Palestinians suffered multiple grievous injustices which resulted from the creation of the State of Israel in 1948, which Palestinians know as the Nakba, the Catastrophe. This left millions of Palestinians dispossessed of their homes, their land and their fundamental freedoms.

It must also be understood that the Israeli occupation of the West Bank from 1967 and the blockade of Gaza since 2007 is an intolerable injustice which has compounded the previous dispossessions.

It should also be clearly stated that Israel has the right to self-defence and it has the power to achieve it. Surely it must be accepted that Palestinians also have the right to self-defence and have no such means.

Finally, it is necessary to continue to acknowledge that Hamas conducted a terrifying terrorist atrocity against some military forces and many civilians in the border areas of Gaza on Oct. 7, 2023 and this must be unreservedly condemned.

All of these statements underpin the way in which I approach the present conflict (and there are so many more which could be stated but time does not permit). They form part of the essential idea that the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians did not begin on Oct. 7, 2023. Those who simply state that Hamas initiated all this on the fateful day have shamefully missed all that went before it. There is a long and complicated history which must be understood. To detach the present bloody conflict from its historical context makes it impossible to engage coherently with present events and to consider future pathways towards any kind of resolution which is not simply an end to the Gaza War. The problems are far wider and deeper than that one devastating killing zone.

I arrived in Jerusalem six years ago to take up the role of dean of St. George’s College. The college is neither a school nor a university but rather, the Anglican centre for pilgrimage in the Holy Land. We serve the whole Anglican Communion and run approximately 22 study pilgrimages each year (in normal times). When I accepted the role, I knew I was coming to serve in a part of the world which was riven with conflict, and I knew that the conflict would inevitably feature in my ministry. I have always seen it as part of St. George’s purposes in running pilgrimages, to present the current political realities of Israel/Palestine. For myself, I believed I was well informed of the complex history and realities of the land, having first travelled there in 1981 to work in a church-run hostel for six months and having taken a close interest in the region ever since. It has been a shock to realize how little I truly understood until I fully rooted myself in the land and shared closely in the experiences of the people.

St. George’s College has a long history, which has always sought to bridge the divide between Israelis and Palestinians, between Jews, Muslims and Christians. I fully committed to that vocation, although I felt my primary loyalty to be with Palestinians. As time has gone on, that lack of impartiality has become increasingly marked. The war in Gaza and its many ramifications strengthened my convictions in the just cause of Palestinian liberation and the essential goal of statehood. I uphold the right of the State of Israel to exist but the maintenance of Israel’s occupation of the West Bank and East Jerusalem and the blockade of Gaza, which became a more or less accepted part of the political terrain, are deep and intolerable wounds on the land and damages all its people. These are wounds which, lacking treatment, have turned septic. The way in which Israel’s occupation became accepted in international perspective, too, is well illustrated by the number of Christian pilgrims from all over the world, who glibly describe their “pilgrimage to Israel” without being in the least bit aware of all the times they have passed in and out of Palestine or, if you prefer, the “Occupied Palestinian Territories.” Their tour guides either obscure these facts or are happy to go along with their pilgrims’ willing indifference to it. Still, far too many Christian pilgrim groups hide behind the fig leaf description of “The Holy Land” to avoid having to engage in complex and possibly uncomfortable realities. Holy Land pilgrimage too easily hovers a few inches above the brutal facts on the ground in an attempt at a holy avoidance of uncomfortable truths.

The catastrophic events of Oct. 7, 2023 and the ensuing brutal and merciless devastation of Gaza by Israel has at least put paid to all that avoidance. No one can honestly believe now that the status quo in Israel/Palestine as it existed on Oct. 6, 2023 was sustainable or desirable, nor that a return to that state of affairs is achievable in the future. Everything has changed and to some extent that is good, but the cost of removing the veil of ignorance is so very high and contains multiple tragedies that are going to take generations to process and heal. There is no going back; we have to go forward, and the deep challenge of these days is to seek to ensure that the steps forward we take must be onwards to a future in which everyone who lives in the land between the river and the sea is enabled to live as an equal citizen, and that future plans must not institutionalize a system of first class, second class and non-citizens.

The present situation in Gaza, the West Bank and Israel almost defies adequate description. Many people around the world, at least those who have not entirely given up on following international news, have been exposed to this mass destruction more than any other recent foreign war; however there is so much more occurring than is being reported. In the absence of the world’s media in Gaza because Israel will not permit them, there are multiple realities and stories that will only emerge in time. Hamas and Israel have locked themselves into positions where neither is prepared to retreat even one inch. Both are seeking the vital sense of decisive victory that will enable them to move into the next phase of the conflict from a position of strength. The civilian population of Gaza is paying the price, and it is catastrophic.

The Anglican Al Ahli Hospital in Gaza City is one of our diocesan institutions. It gives us a reliable perspective into the conflict from ground level. There are multiple horrific stories (similar to the hundreds that have been seen in news reports) which we have heard directly from our staff there. A few months ago, the hospital was evacuated because of a general instruction by the Israeli army to flee to a supposed safe zone. But under a significant international outcry, Israel assured us that our staff and patients would be safe. Thus, several days after a traumatic departure, the hospital reopened. It is still the only functioning hospital in the north of Gaza. It has taken hits during the war, but unlike other hospitals it has not been flattened. It is operating way over capacity with new seriously injured patients arriving every day. There are insufficient medical supplies to do the necessary operations that are required. Women giving birth often do not have pain-killing relief. Our staff are exhausted on their feet and they are going hungry. Most are getting no more than one meal a day and at most, three hot meals per week. Patients are getting less than this, and ill patients will not recover without nutritious food.

The statistics alone are terrifying. Despite Israel’s assurance to the contrary, they are still not permitting sufficient food and water into the Gaza Strip. There is continuing danger of famine, which would be an irreversible disaster of starvation and disease. Polio has reappeared for the first time in 50 years, and if the current attempt at an inoculation program does not succeed, there will be another avoidable disaster. Maximum suffering seems to have been part of the strategy. Senior politicians and generals declared their intent at the start and they have pursued those policies with conviction despite latterly denying the intent and often declaring that there is no lack of food and no danger of starvation.

I tell you naught for your comfort,
Yea, naught for your desire,
Save that the sky grows darker yet
And the sea rises higher.

The harsh and brutal reality is that whenever the war in Gaza ends, it will not in any sense be the end of the conflict. You might say, to employ a well-known phrase, that it would be “the end of the beginning.” It is so hard to imagine how Israelis and Palestinians will be able to live together in future, such is the deepening of division and the intensification of hatred that has developed. We neither know where we are going nor how we will get there. Of course, the whole region has been significantly destabilized over the past six months and the danger of the war spreading into Lebanon and involving Iran and their proxies in more significant ways, is a very a real prospect, some arguing that it is inevitable. Recent events have made this prospect perilously likely.

All of this paints a very bleak picture before even describing the devastating impact which the war is having on the 2.7 million Palestinians who live in the Occupied West Bank. Whole neighbourhoods, hospitals and universities are not being flattened as in Gaza, but there is very significant military activity there too, which has escalated in recent weeks. Israel will say that they are rooting out Hamas terror cells (and inevitably there is some of that) but it is impacting the wider community in devastating and frightening ways. Freedom of movement is seriously curtailed. Hundreds of thousands of people have lost their jobs, poverty is growing and hunger is becoming a reality. There are multiple effects which are impacting the day to day lives of Palestinians and making life intolerable for many. There are multiple elements of Israel’s occupation which long predate Oct. 7, 2023, such as home demolitions, forced removal of people from their long-established communities, arrest and detention without charge or trial, and refusal of permits to build new housing and tight control and limitation of the water and electricity supply. When all of these brutal and unjust practices are considered, it is not hard to imagine that many Palestinians, including significant numbers of Christians, have left the land or are planning to in order to seek a better life elsewhere, despite their deep attachment to and love of the land.

Where does all of this put us right now? There is enough violence, hatred and division in Israel and Palestine to last more than a lifetime. It’s made all the more painful because of the place that Jerusalem, and all the land, holds for the people of the Abrahamic faiths. Jews, Christians and Muslims revere the land. They feel spiritually rooted in it because of the events of salvation history for each faith that have taken place there. We call Jerusalem the City of Peace but in recent times it has been anything but that; in fact, it rarely if ever has been peaceful. There is enough religious fervour and competition over the ownership of the land to sustain this conflict for generations to come. We can all use our holy scriptures to demonstrate that we should take precedence. But Jerusalem has had to be shared for millennia. Every attempt to claim the city for one faith has failed. No one will surrender the special place Jerusalem has for them, and none of the competing groups will give up the claim to their homeland. Instead of using our religion to beat each other, people of faith should dig deep to find the best of our spiritual wisdom and resources to discover the ways to live together in tolerance and equality. To adapt a phrase from the economic sphere, regarding the land, here there is enough for everyone’s need but not enough for everyone’s greed. Christians are now a tiny minority throughout the land and perhaps they appear marginal or even irrelevant in the context of the whole conflict. But I believe Christians individually and the Church corporately have an important role to play. It is one that the Anglican Diocese of Jerusalem is trying to exercise through all of our ministries – our schools, our hospitals and our care centres. Living together means serving one another. Ultimately, we will discover a better way when the peoples of the land can say “I belong to Jerusalem” rather than “Jerusalem belongs to me.”

Trevor Huddleston gave to his readers “naught for your comfort” and my message is essentially the same. The hopeful outcome for us is somewhere over the horizon. Right now, we must concentrate on the next good thing we can do and the next good thing we can say. We must oppose and stop this war. The release of hostages held in Gaza and the release of Palestinians unjustly held in Israel is a necessary precondition for the establishment of a ceasefire which is such an urgent need. The International Court of Justice ordered Israel to take specific provisional measures to prevent the crime of genocide against the Palestinian people in the Gaza Strip. It is hard to see how their actions since that ruling have complied with that requirement. Despite inevitable war fatigue in Europe and North America, it is still vital that people do not avert their eyes from this conflict. It is hard to watch, it feels intractable, and resolution still feels a long way off, but simply turning away from it is not a viable option. Of course it is far, far harder for those actually living through it. Do not forget, this war, this entire conflict, has everything to do with the populations of Western countries for multiple historical and current political reasons. It is certainly going to take years, not months, to make a difference, but the world cannot afford to avoid this situation any more. Huddleston concluded his book saying that he was unable to predict the future for Black South Africa, but he wrote a simple and powerful affirmation on which the way forward would have to be founded. It holds true for Israel/Palestine too:

He said that the gospel message relies on “the simple recognition that all people are made in the image and likeness of God; that in consequence each person is of infinite and eternal value; the state exits to protect the person but the state is always of inferior value to the person.”

That seems to me to be an important conviction on which to establish a foundation and from there to build a path forwards. It will take the best of minds and hearts to rescue all the people of Israel and Palestine from slipping further towards mutual destruction. Huddleston had to wait 40 years from writing Naught for Your Comfort before he was able to celebrate the end of the apartheid regime, but he did at least live to see that joyful day. The prospect for a joyful outcome for Israelis and Palestinians also seems to be decades away, but as with the South African anti-apartheid movement, it will require massive international effort and mobilization to bring an end to the conflict in the Holy Land. To give up on the struggle and to step back again (as has occurred since the failure of the Oslo Process in 2000) would be disastrous for all communities in the land. Indeed, it would only cause more trouble for the international community and would lead to a further downward spiral in Palestine/Israel and way beyond their borders too. It is in everyone’s best interests to continue grappling with the intractable issues and to seek peaceful pathways towards a just solution.

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1

Grant to me, O Lord, to know what is worth knowing,
To love what is worth loving,
To praise what delights you most,
To value what is precious to you,
And to reject whatever is evil in your eyes.
Give me true discernment,
So that I may judge rightly between things that differ.
Above all, may I search out and do what is pleasing to you;
Through Jesus Christ my Lord. Amen.

Thomas A Kempis, c. 1389-1471

2

My dearest Lord,
be a bright flame before me,
be my guiding star above me,
be the smooth path beneath me,
be a kindly shepherd behind me,
today and evermore.

St. Columba, c.521-597 

3

Lord, we offer you all we are,
All we have, all we do,
And all whom we shall meet this day,
That you will be given glory.
We offer you our homes and work,
Our schools and leisure,
And everyone in our community today;
May all be done as unto you.
We offer you the broken and hungry . . .
May the wealth and work of the world be available to all
And for the exploitation of none.
May your presence be known to all.

Morning Prayer, the community of St. Aidan and St. Hilda, Lindisfarne, UK

4

Give me grace, O my Father,
to be utterly ashamed of my own reluctance.
Rouse me from sloth and coldness,
and make me desire you with my whole heart.
Teach me to love meditation, sacred reading, and prayer.
Teach me to love that which must engage my mind for all eternity.

John Henry Newman, 1801-1890

5

O thou who camest from above,
The pure celestial fire to impart,
Kindle a flame of sacred love
On the mean altar of my heart.
There let it for thy glory burn
With inextinguishable blaze,
And trembling to its source return
In humble prayer and fervent praise.

Charles Wesley, c. 1707-1788

6

Creator, we give you thanks
for all you are and all you bring to us
for our visit within your creation.
In Jesus, you place the Gospel
in the center of this Sacred Circle
through which all of creation is related.
You show us the way to live
a generous and compassionate life.
Give us your strength to live together
with respect and commitment
as we grow in your Spirit,
for you are God, now and forever. Amen.

Taken from a liturgy for the National Indigenous Day of Prayer

7

Christ, you have gone before me
to prepare a place for me,
that where you are
there I may be also.
Teach me to wait with patience,
to watch with alertness,
to trust that you are with me
in the unknown future
and to know your presence.

Jane Williams, professor St. Mellitus College

8

Take, Lord, and receive
my liberty,
my memory,
my understanding,
my entire will,
everything I have and call my own.
You gave me all these gifts,
And to you I return them.
Dispose of them entirely according to your will.
Give me only your love and your grace.
This is all I ask.

Margaret Silf, leader in Ignatian spirituality

9

Teach us, O God, that silent language which says all things.
Teach our souls to remain silent in Your presence;
that we may adore You in the depths of our being,
and await all things from You,
while asking of You nothing but the accomplishment of Your will.
Teach us to remain quiet under Your action
and produce in our souls that deep and simple prayer
which says nothing and experiences everything,
which specifies nothing and includes everything.
Do pray in us, that our prayer may ever tend to Your glory,
and our desires and intentions may not be fixed on ourselves,
but wholly directed to You.

Evelyn Underhill, c. 1875-1941

10

For all that separates our hearts from God
and from all that closes our eyes to God’s love…
(silence)
For what we have done, left undone,
and what has been done on our behalf…
(silence)
For the pride that prevents us from forgiving others,
as we have been forgiven…
(silence)
Jesus, forgive us.
Create in us clean hearts, O God,
and renew a right spirit within us.

Taken from a liturgy for the National Indigenous Day of Prayer, Anglican Church of Canada

11

The cross is the hope of Christians
The cross is the resurrection of the dead
The cross is the way of the lost
The cross is the saviour of the lost
The cross is the staff of the lame
The cross is the strength of the weak
The cross is the doctor of the sick
The cross is the aim of the priests
The cross is the hope of the hopeless
The cross is the freedom of the slaves
The cross is the power of the kings
The cross is the water of the weeds
The cross is the consolation of the bondmen
The cross is the source of those who seek water
The cross is the cloth of the naked
We thank you, Father, for the cross

African prayer, 10th century

12

Lord Jesus Christ
Son of God
Have mercy on me,
a sinner.

The Jesus Prayer, Orthodox Church

13

Creator God, so draw our hearts to you,
so guide our minds,
so fill our imaginations,
so control our wills,
that we might be wholly yours,
utterly dedicated to you;
and then use us, we pray, as you will,
and always to your glory and welfare of
your people; through our Redeemer, Jesus Christ.
Amen.

A Disciple’s Prayer Book, Anglican Council of Indigenous Peoples

14

Soul of Christ, sanctify me
Body of Christ, save me
Blood of Christ, refresh me
Water from Christ’s side, wash me
Passion of Christ, strengthen me
O good Jesus, hear me
Within thy wounds hide me
Suffer me not to be separated from thee
From the malicious enemy defeat me
In the hour of my death call me
And bid me come unto thee
That I may praise thee with thy saints
and with the angels
Forever and ever. Amen.

The Anima Christi, early 14th century, a favourite prayer of St. Ignatius Loyola

15

Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord, to thee.
Take my moments and my days;
Let them flow in ceaseless praise,
let them flow in ceaseless praise.

Frances R. Havergal, poet and hymn writer, c. 1836-1879

16

Oh God, early in the morning I cry to you.
Help me to pray and to concentrate my thoughts on you:
I cannot do this alone,
In me there is darkness, but with you there is light,
I am lonely, but you do not leave me;
I am feeble in heart, but in you there is help;
I am restless, but with you there is peace.
In me there is bitterness, but with you there is patience;
I do not understand your ways, but you know the way for me . . .
Restore me to liberty, and enable me to live now
That I may answer before you and before me.
Lord, whatever this day may bring, your name be praised.

Deitrich Bonhoeffer, martyred German theologian, c. 1904-1945

17 

But all shall be well,
And all shall be well,
And all manner of thing shall be well.

Julian of Norwich, c. 1343 – after 1416

18

Govern everything by your wisdom, o Lord,
So that my soul may always be serving you
In the way you will, and not as I choose.
Let me die to myself so that I may serve you;
Let me live to you who are life itself. Amen.

Teresa of Avila c. 1515-1582

19

O Lord, my God.
Form me more fully in your likeness.
Use the circumstance and interactions of this day to form your will in me.
From the frustrations of this day form peace.
From the joy of this day form strength.
From the struggles of this day form courage.
From the beauties of this day form love.
In the name of Jesus Christ, who is all peace and strength
and courage and love. Amen.

Richard Foster, theologian and author in the Quaker tradition

20

Come! Spirit of Love!
Penetrate and transform us by the action of Your purifying life.
May your constant, brooding love bring forth in us
more love and all the grace and works of love.
Give us grace to remain still under its action,
and may that humble stillness be our prayer. Amen.

Evelyn Underhill, c. 1875-1941

21

Abba, I adore you.
Abba, I adore you.
Abba, I adore you.
Abba, my Abba.

Abba, the Hebrew word meaning father

22

God, of your goodness give me yourself,
For you are enough for me.
I cannot properly ask anything less, to be worthy of you.
If I were to ask less, I should always be in want.
In you alone do I have everything.
Amen.

Julian of Norwich, c. 1343 – after 1416

23

Christ, be with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ where I lie, Christ where I sit, Christ where I arise,
Christ in the heart of everyone who think of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me,
Salvation is of the Lord,
Salvation is of the Christ,
May our salvation, O Lord, be ever with us.

St. Patrick of Ireland, c. 387-461

24

Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lacked anything.
“A guest,” I answered, “worthy to be here”:
Love said, “You shall be he.”
“I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,
I cannot look on Thee.”
Love took my hand and smiling did reply,
“Who made the eyes but I?”
“Truth, Lord, but I have marred them: let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.”
“And know you not,” says Love, “Who bore the blame?”
“My dear, then I will serve.”
“You must sit down,” says Love, “and taste my meat.”
So I did sit and eat.

George Herbert, c. 1593–1633. 

25

I rise and pledge myself to God
To do no deed at all of dark.
This day shall be his sacrifice
And I, unmoved, my passions’ lord.
I blush to be so old and foul
And yet to stand before his table.
You know what I would do, O Christ;
O then, to do it make me able.

Gregory of Nazianzus, c. 329-390

26

Open wide the window of our spirits, O lord,
and fill us full of light;
Open wide the door of our hearts,
that we may receive and entertain thee with all our power
of adoration and love. Amen.

Christina G. Rossetti, c. 1830-1894

27

Fire
God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob,
Not of philosophers and scholars.
Certitude.
Certitude.
Feeling.
Joy.
Peace.
God of Jesus Christ.
Forgetfulness of the world and of everything, except God.
Greatness of the Human Soul.
Joy, joy, joy, tears of joy.

Blaise Pascal, c. 1623-1662     

28

Late have I loved you, O beauty so ancient and so new.
Late have I loved you!
You were within me while I have gone outside to seek you.
Unlovely myself, I rushed toward all those lovely things you had made.
And always you were with me, I was not with you.
All these beauties kept me far from you
although they would not have existed at all
unless they had their being in you.
You called,
You cried,
You shattered my deafness.
You sparked,
You blazed,
You drove away my blindness.
You shed your fragrance, and I drew in my breath, and I pant for you.
I tasted, and now I hunger and thirst.
You touched me, and now I burn with longing for your peace.

Augustine of Hippo, c. 354-430

29 

You, O Eternal Trinity, are a deep sea into which,
the more I enter, the more I find.
And the more I find, the more I seek.
O Abyss,
O eternal Godhead,
O sea profound,
What more could you give me than yourself?
Amen.

Catherine of Siena, c. 1347-1380

30

Dearest Lord, may I see you today
and every day in the person of your sick,
and, while nursing them, minister unto you.
Though you hid yourself
behind the unattractive disguise of the irritable,
the exacting, the unreasonable,
may I still recognize you, and say:
“Jesus, my patient, how sweet it is to serve you.”

Mother Teresa of Calcutta, c. 1910-1997

31

My Dear Friend, I am here.
See, I have come to you because you have invited me.
Your tears and your soul’s longing, your humility and
your grief-stricken heart
Have moved me and brought me to you.
O Lord, I called you and longed to enjoy you,
and I am prepared to give up everything for you.
Let my mouth, my soul, and all creation praise and bless you.
Amen.

Thomas a Kempis, c. 1389-1471

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