When Titus Busonga arrived in Canada in 2023, he was struck not only by the complexity of navigating new systems, but by the quiet ways trust could take root.
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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