Despite these positive developments, many congregations continue to experience a decline in attendance, giving, volunteer recruitment and community engagement. While much of this was underway long before the pandemic struck in 2020, in some communities this trend has accelerated. Indeed, parishes that did not adapt quickly to the impact of social distancing and lockdowns have had a challenging time rebuilding.

Regrettably, the pandemic abruptly changed people’s pattern of social interaction, including worship attendance. The negative impact of these changes is profound. The Canadian Coalition for Seniors’ Mental Health and The Canadian Geriatrics Journal both report that feelings of loneliness and isolation were especially pronounced during the pandemic, with more than two thirds of women over the age of 65 being negatively affected. Given that, you would expect a run on church attendance, yet many churches report stubborn growth numbers, especially in rural communities.

I know the Church as an institution has gotten a bad rap in the last few years. As Christians we have been fed a constant news reel of examples of abuse, neglect and lack of respect. These are, sadly, real causes for concern. Church leaders, and especially women in authority, have experienced real hurt. Despite this trend, our Church remains a beacon of hope for a broken and lonely world. And going to church CAN be good for you.

Putting aside the obvious and well-founded criticism, we should promote church attendance and membership not just because it allows us to connect with the Divine. It can also have a transformative impact on our daily lives.

Some ways in which going to church can be beneficial include: an increased sense of purpose and meaning in life; greater emotional and social support; increased feelings of belonging and community; reduced feelings of loneliness and isolation; improved mental and emotional well-being; and increased feelings of hope and optimism.

Of course, our intention is not to turn church into a country club or alternative service organization. We are first and foremost a house of worship where we give thanks to God and participate in God’s grand mission for creation.

Still, church attendees regularly experience a host of quantifiable health benefits according to the Human Flourishing Program at Harvard University. The report concludes that “religious service attendance is associated with greater longevity, less depression, less suicide, less smoking, less substance abuse, better cancer and cardiovascular disease survival, less divorce, greater social support, greater meaning in life, greater life satisfaction, more volunteering and greater civic engagement.” Compared to those who do not attend church, suicide rates are a staggering 84 per cent lower among church attendees. Study after study concludes that going to church is a good thing.

Science alone will not convince people that having faith improves your lot in life. But the evidence does indicate that despite its shortcomings – it is composed of human beings, after all – church and faith and religion have a positive impact on one’s overall disposition and outlook.

Now that the pandemic is in the rearview mirror (for good, I hope), be a good neighbour, a good steward and invite others to church. It might just improve your health and perspective at the same time.

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In preparation for their arrival, we assembled welcome bags containing hygiene products and snacks. Last year, we distributed around 500 welcome bags, and this year we expect to distribute many more. Many of the workers, especially those who have been coming for years, are surprised to see how inflation has increased the costs of everyday items. In addition, some have also shared that their wages are impacted by the low Canadian dollar. With tariffs looming, there is the potential for life to get even more difficult.

In their own words, we hear how impactful the Migrant Worker Ministry has been:

“My name is Cortés Ayala and I work at Algoma Orchards, which is dedicated to everything related to apples. We thank Father Augusto and all the people who support us with the pantry items, winter clothes, shoes, backpacks and everything else. Thank you and God bless you” – Alejandro Cortés Ayala, Algoma Orchards

“My name is Oscar and I am from the state of Veracruz, Mexico. Thanks to the parish, Father Ted (McCollum) and Father Augusto for the church services that we are invited to attend when possible. In the services, we thank God for protecting us at work and for taking care of our families. Thank you very much for all the attention and support you give us.” – Oscar Sanchez, Good Year Farm

“My name is Ricardo Johnson and I am from the Watson Farm. Pastor and team, you do wonderful, good work! God bless you and your team, and I hope and trust in the Lord that He will continue to bless you and your team, to guide you, to protect you, to lead you, and to direct! God bless you, sir.” – Ricardo Johnson, Watson Farm

There is no doubt that these workers are a vulnerable population that our Church and community are reaching out to, thanks to our diocesan focus on mission and outreach. This reflects our shared responsibility to care for all individuals in our parishes and diocese, as well as to extend our outreach beyond our church buildings.

We are delighted to welcome our migrant worker brothers and friends as they return to Canada. The Migrant Worker Ministry gladly welcomes in-kind donations and financial support through your FaithWorks contributions.

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With a focus on the opportunities and challenges facing the Anglican Church, the Cowling Bursary provides essential support for programs that engage people of all ages in meaningful worship experiences. It was established by friends and family of the late Douglas Cowling, ODT, a musician, writer and scholar who shared his enthusiasm for accessible music and liturgical experimentation with parishes throughout the diocese and beyond. Mr. Cowling died in 2017.

According to its members, Christ Church’s youth band isn’t just about music; it’s about community, faith and mentorship. For many participants, the band has been a transformative experience. Fortune, a member of the group, shares:

“Youth group and the band have shown me how many fun ways there are to serve the Lord, from singing to gathering together to discuss His glory. As the bible says, ‘For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.’ Whether we’re singing, playing drums, or simply spending time together, we know He is with us.”

Another participant, Bright, reflects on his personal growth:

“I gained so much from the youth band—I learned to play the guitar and improved my drumming. I feel so lucky to have Kirk in my life. Even in difficult times, he always finds a way to make it to band practice. His dedication has inspired me to keep going and keep learning.”

Thanks to the support of the Cowling Bursary, this program continues to nurture young musicians and strengthen their connection to worship – one note at a time.

For more information about the Douglas C. Cowling Bursary and to learn how to apply, visit the Anglican Diocese of Toronto Foundation’s web page at www.toronto.anglican.ca/foundation.

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Below, youth from St. Mary Magdalene take part in the walk in Toronto, helping to raise $3,275 for Sistering, a neighbourhood centre that supports women in need. Photos courtesy of Trinity, Bradford and St. Mary Magdalene.

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Warren was my great uncle, and I discovered his small, faded diary some years ago in the bottom of a portable wooden writing box that my father had passed on to me. The diary was long forgotten, lost really, as often happens to such fragile links to the past—letters and other memorabilia stored away in trunks and desks and attics for seeming safe keeping. These connections to the past are important and indeed valuable, and if I had not found Warren’s diary, I would never have been able to come to know, at least a little, both Warren and his father – my great-grandfather, the Rev. Canon Lawrence Skey, once upon a time the rector of St. Anne’s, a church he made quite famous as he oversaw the construction of the Byzantine Revival building in the early 1900s.

As I transcribed Warren’s diary and struggled to make sense of his often-illegible handwriting, military abbreviations, and names and places that meant nothing to me, I realized that there were stories that I could tell drawing on his day-by-day entries. There is the story of Warren himself, a gunner in the 48th Howitzer Battery of the 2nd Brigade of the Canadian Field Artillery. He was not quite 22 when he arrived in France and almost immediately found himself in “charge of guns” (there were six howitzers in his battery, all horse-drawn). Warren also soon found himself confronted with the reality of war: “Believe me, it’s damn hard to see those fellows dying & feel so powerless to stop it.” It was not only the men he saw wounded or dead, but also the horses.

Integral to an artillery brigade in World War I were the thousands and thousands of horses and mules, a reality not always covered in depth in books on the war yet expressed in an understated way by Warren, who always enjoyed being with the horses away from the guns at the wagon lines or taking them to the watering places. He knew firsthand, however, the inherent dangers and threat of death the equines with their drivers faced as they took ammunition to the gunpits near the front under cover of nighttime darkness. Warren was “packing ammunition to the guns” through November at Passchendaele, where his efforts to rescue both men and pack horses from that hell earned him the Military Cross. “Thank the Lord & am O.K.”, he wrote, then put his diary away for good.

The title of my book is Horses, Howitzers, and Hymns. I have explained very briefly why horses and howitzers, but what of the hymns? Church was important to Warren, and he was always disappointed when he realized that another Sunday had passed him by; there were no Sundays “when in action for there is too much work to do.” But on April 29 he wrote: “Oh! What a day! warm as June – a perfect Sunday – but no church – the bands playing the old familiar hymns made me long for old St. Anne’s again – I think that the only things that make me homesick are those old familiar hymns.” I wish I knew what they may have been.

Church services were but one of the many responsibilities of military chaplains who served in the war, whether in ambulances and hospitals or in the trenches and gunpits. They said prayers for the dying and wrote letters home to the families of the dead. Warren’s father had to do this too when he was in France as a chaplain through the last year of the war. In his letter, Chaplain Skey would explain that he also had a son at the front and so understood a parent’s sorrow. It was perhaps a stroke of luck that he was nearby when one of his own parishioners died, so he conducted the funeral service himself in the Sucrerie Cemetery.

Warren and his father had hoped to spend time together fishing when on leave, but it was month after month of battles—Arras, Amiens, Cambrai. The Rev. Skey was in London when the armistice was declared and back at St. Anne’s in December 1918; Warren returned six months later. Somewhere between 700 and 800 parishioners had originally enlisted, and the church was fierce in its support of the war, so understandably there were celebrations in the parish hall; but not everyone came home. On Sunday, Nov. 14, 1920, two solemn services were held for the unveiling of the memorial window and bronze tablet on the north wall of the church. The Rev. Skey, now a canon, officiated at the morning service, and his friend Canon F.G. Scott, the almost legendary military chaplain, at the evening service. The names of all 84 men engraved on the tablet were read aloud one by one, the congregation standing, the music and hymns specially chosen. Most of these men are buried or commemorated on monuments overseas, but a few rest in Toronto Prospect Cemetery, never having recovered from their wounds, among them Warren’s friend Henry Chedzey.

In writing Warren’s story, I was very conscious that I never knew him or my great-grandparents. I was also conscious that I had read something that Warren most likely never thought would become the essence of a book. I hope, as I wrote in the epilogue, that I have not stepped too intrusively into their lives, nor those of others within. It has been an honour to know them all.

Horses, Howitzers, and Hymns: The Story of Lieut. Skey, MC, and His Father in the Great War, is available from major booksellers.

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Kent, David A., and Kennedy, Patricia A. (eds.) Household of God: A Parish History of St. Thomas’s Church, Toronto. Volume Two: 1984-2024. St. Thomas’s Church, 2024. ISBN 9781928095118. 450pp.

“For years, the atmospheric photograph of the Palm Sunday procession that accompanied John Bentley Mays’s article in The Globe and Mail has adorned a wall in my home. It captures the drama of the procession on that day, in which Willem Hart was thurifer, Neil Hoult and Caleb Reynolds were acolytes, and my daughter Sarah was boat girl. From time to time, folks have queried the context of the photo, wondering what kind of play Sarah was in and what kind of smoke the producer used. ‘The drama of salvation,’ I would always explain, ‘and the sweet smell of home.’”

These reminiscences of the Rev. Canon Susan Haig, a sometime parishioner of St. Thomas, Huron Street, published in the second volume of this history (p. 345), expresses perfectly the character of the parish nicknamed “Smoky Tom’s.” As a newcomer to the parish at the beginning of 2025, I was delighted to discover that I could read an up-to-date history to get to know the people among whom – and the place and practices within which – I am now worshipping. The drama of the liturgy and the smell of the incense I had already encountered in the Epiphany celebrations that were my first experiences of the church as a parishioner. The drama of parish life remains to be discovered, and the nearly 1,000 pages of this history have proven to be a most helpful introduction.

The two volumes are similarly structured, starting with accounts of the incumbent priests, the church building and its furnishings and equipment, the liturgy and music, guilds and groups, education and outreach, and concluding with essays, tributes and myriad reminiscences. The essays included are marvelously thought-provoking, particularly on the liturgy and music, the art and architecture, and the demographics of the parish. The editors, David Kent and Patricia Kennedy for both volumes and with Hugh Anson-Cartwright for the first, must be commended for the evident care and competence with which they brought together the work of so many people. Both volumes are handsomely designed, generously illustrated (in both colour and black and white), and soundly printed and bound as hardcover books.

I enthusiastically recommend this work as a whole to church historians both professional and amateur (because this history is both a rich resource for research and an admirable exemplar for emulation), to fellow Anglicans around the world (because the story of St. Thomas’s is inspiring and encouraging in its demonstration of the providence of God affording the faithfulness of particular people in a particular place following particular—in this case, Prayer Book Catholic—practices), and to my present and future fellow parishioners of St. Thomas’s (because we cannot forge our future without understanding our past). In taking up this reading you will be following the example of the Rev. Nathan Humphrey, who begins his introduction to the second volume by mentioning that “one of the first things I did after accepting the call to be the eighth rector of St. Thomas’s … was to go online and buy a used copy of [the first volume of] Household of God.”

Any reading of this history would be well-accompanied by visits to the church building and participation in at least a high mass, an evensong service, and a feast that includes a procession. As this history describes and explains, St. Thomas’s is a parish centered on incarnational reality, to such an extent that the relationships between the aesthetic reality of the building and its furnishings, the dramatic reality of the liturgical practices performed in that building, and the personal reality of priests and laity all are inextricably woven together, ultimately because of their common central focus on the reality of the presence of Christ in the Eucharist. This is a church that engages worshippers’ every sense, including taste in the eucharist, smell in the incense, sight in the furnishings and vestments, touch in the pews and kneelers, and certainly not least, hearing in the marvelous music. The evolution of “the St. Thomas’s sound” is described and explained across the two volumes and situated within the evolution of the liturgical tradition of the parish.

The ways in which the Eden Smith building both provides a home to the people and practices of the parish and is itself expressive of the spiritual reality of the parish’s faith shows forth on very nearly every page of the two volumes. The baptistry – described by the art critic John Bentley Mays as “perhaps the most beautiful small room in Toronto” in his 1995 Globe article – allows for the making of poignant connections between the Christian sacraments of initiation, family love, and the horrors of war. The triptych above the altar in the Lady Chapel memorializes the formative influences of Father Roper, who put the parish on the liturgical path along which we continue to travel, and Mother Hannah Coome, the founder of the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine. The carved wooden figures in the reredos behind the high altar illustrate the spiritual ecosystem of the parish, with the figure of St. Thomas (as a carpenter) at the centre surrounded, for example, by St. James (representing the diocesan cathedral and mother church of the parish), St. Augustine of Canterbury (representing the worldwide Anglican communion), St. Cyprian (representing a parish birthed from St. Thomas’s), and St. John (representing the historical relationship of St. Thomas’s with both the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine and the Society of St. John the Evangelist).

The stories of the priests and people of the parish help the reader understand why the Rev. Canon Alyson Barnett-Cowan in her reminiscences, included in the first volume, could call St. Thomas’s “a prototype of a parish,” and why the Rev. Canon David Harrison in his reminiscences, included in the second volume, can observe that “St. Thomas’s asks much of its people.” The colour illustrations and written descriptions in both volumes provide a glimpse of the incarnational materiality of the faith practices of this community as expressed in our incense, silver, vestments, altar cloths, and in the faithful service of our Acolytes Guild and Altar Guild.

The vernacular domestic coziness and richly symbolic furnishings of the present building of St. Thomas’s (opened in 1893) represent for me the way in which Christians dwell in the world. I was surprised to learn from this history that the first, wooden building of the parish represents the way in which Christians journey in the world. That building was cut in two, mounted on rollers, and drawn by horses from Bathurst Street to Sussex Avenue in Toronto in 1882, which resulted in amused church folk calling it “the peripatetic church.” The journey was re-enacted in a liturgical procession on the Feast of St. Michael and All Angels in 1974, the centenary of the founding of the parish.

The 1893 brick Arts & Crafts church designed by parishioner Eden Smith to replace the original wooden church was itself intended to be replaced in phases over time by a grander stone structure, but the “temporary” church has endured for 130 years.

The wooden “peripatetic church” of 1882 and the brick “temporary church” of 1893 that has turned out to be the permanent (yet ever-changing) home for this community together represent the creative tension inherent in the Christian life. This creative tension is encapsulated in the traditional Benedictine vows of stability, obedience, and conversion of life that the Prayer Book tradition of Anglicanism has claimed as its birthright and charism. In this regard, St. Thomas’s yesterday, today, and tomorrow, is indeed the “prototype of a parish.”

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“We had said to ourselves, and I said it a lot, we’re not trying to build back the old St. Paul’s, because it’s gone,” recalls Bishop Jenny Andison, rector of St. Paul’s. “Covid was a once-in-a-century event and God had disrupted the normal course of ministry, and we needed to take the opportunity to ask ourselves where God was leading us. We weren’t going to build back better; we were going to build new.”

The church started a strategic planning and visioning process, and then along came the diocese’s strategic plan, Cast the Net, and its 20 calls to action. The calls, which were endorsed by Synod in 2023, encourage Anglicans to renew their spiritual lives, to seek justice for all, to support faithful and fruitful ministry, and to live and work as the body of Christ, each connected to the whole and each valued for their unique gifts.

“It was perfect timing, to see where we could come alongside where our bishops were leading us,” says Bishop Andison. “Being a bishop myself, I believe in episcopal leadership of our diocese, and I thought, okay, let’s pay attention to where our bishops are wanting us to go.”

The staff team at St. Paul’s sat down with the calls and began to discern which ones spoke to them. “The good thing was, we could find ourselves in the calls,” says Bishop Andison. “We went through them and said, where do the calls fit with what we’re currently doing that we’re going to keep doing? Some calls didn’t speak as loudly to us at St. Paul’s but there were a number that did, and we were like, oh yes, we can get behind this one, and this one is really good, too.”

The calls also helped the team think about what they needed to stop doing. “Just because we did something before the pandemic didn’t mean we needed to keep doing it,” says Bishop Andison. “It gave us the opportunity to have that discussion and pray into that. Are there things, God, that we used to do that you’re not calling us to do anymore? Having the calls to action during our strategic planning process gave us a lens to do that with. If we’re doing stuff that doesn’t find itself anywhere under the Cast the Net vision, why are we doing it? It was a pruning exercise, and it was helpful.”

After prayerful discernment, the church chose calls 1, 2, 4, 10 and 15. Call 1 is to enter into a Season of Spiritual Renewal to deepen personal and collective discipleship; Call 2 is to reinvigorate and recommit to children’s, youth, family and intergenerational ministries; Call 4 is to recognize and act on opportunities to participate in God’s healing work in the world; Call 10 is to better reflect the diversity of our communities in both congregations and clergy; and Call 15 is to introduce and use new ways to measure and nurture congregational health and effectiveness.

“Those were the calls that really fit with who we currently are and, maybe more importantly, where we feel God is calling us to in the future,” says Bishop Andison.

Since then, the church has developed a vision, mission and values statement that helps to guide its life, aligned with the Cast the Net vision.

And the calls are coming to life at St. Paul’s. The church is putting a lot of resources into prayer gatherings, with surprising results. After doing a “prayer audit” of the congregation, it found that while there were resources for personal prayer such as its Daily Prayer Guide, and people prayed during the Sunday liturgies and in small groups, there weren’t opportunities for medium-size groups to come together and pray for the future of the Church.

“We thought that was a gaping hole in our congregation, so we hosted our first Kingdom Come prayer night last summer, and 75 people came,” says Bishop Andison. “That was amazing, for an hour and a half of prayer. Then we thought, why are we not praying with the local churches? So, we had an ecumenical gathering this past January and 600 people came. It was unbelievable.”

She keeps a printed copy of the church’s mission, vision and values on her desk and refers to it almost every day, especially when important decisions need to be made. In this way, the calls have become an important part of the church’s decision-making process. “They sharpened our intentionality on certain areas of ministry. In the hustle and bustle of running a church, it’s easy to forget those things.”

She encourages other churches to choose a couple of calls that feel right for them. “What two or three calls are you uniquely positioned to fulfil, that will give life? It may be things you’re already doing, and you want to say, you know what, this is a medium priority now but we’re going to make it a top priority. And also, what two or three things do we need to stop doing – that aren’t drawing people to Jesus? The calls kind of give you permission to start doing that.”

Which calls are right for your church?

With Synod coming up in November, parishes are being asked to embrace one or two of the following 20 calls. The calls were approved by Synod in 2023 as part of the diocese’s strategic plan, Cast the Net.

Renewing Spirituality

We are renewed daily in our spiritual lives and share our faith with others. In that spirit, all parts of the Diocese of Toronto are called to:

1. Enter into a Season of Spiritual Renewal to deepen personal and collective discipleship.
2. Reinvigorate and recommit to children’s, youth, family and intergenerational ministries.
3. Share and use resources to enliven worship, faith formation, spiritual practice and evangelism.

Inspiring Faith in Action

We seek justice for all, walk alongside those in need, and respond with loving service and prophetic advocacy. In that spirit, all parts of the diocese are called to:

4. Recognize and act on opportunities to participate in God’s healing work in the world.
5. Make explicit connections between following Jesus and working for justice and peace.
6. Strengthen Indigenous ministry; engage non-Indigenous Anglicans in reconciliation work.
7. Take, sustain and communicate actions that promote diversity, equity, inclusion and anti-racism.
8. Intensify advocacy and action in response to the climate crisis.

Reimagining Ministry

We support and encourage faithful and fruitful ministry by all who serve the life of the church. In that spirit, all parts of the diocese are called to:

9. Actively embrace collaboration among congregations and innovation in new forms of ministry.
10. Better reflect the diversity of our communities in both congregations and clergy.
11. Understand the changing needs of lay leaders in congregations and support them in their work.
12. Continue and enhance support for all ordained people.
13. Enable and celebrate the work of ministries focused on service in the world.
14. Rethink clergy discernment, formation, and deployment for the church of the future.
15. Introduce and use new ways to measure and nurture congregational health and effectiveness.

Transforming Diocesan Culture

We live and work as the Body of Christ, each member connected to the whole, and each valued for their unique gifts. In that spirit, all parts of the diocese are called to:

16. Cultivate an understanding of the diocese as a dynamic net of shared relationships.
17. Continue assessing recent diocesan leadership changes and adjust as necessary.
18. Adopt an integrated, theologically informed approach to property management.
19. Ensure follow-through on this report, including implementation methods and metrics.
20. Invest in the vision with existing and new resources, using sound Christian stewardship principles.

For more information on the 20 Calls, including a discussion guide, visit www.toronto.anglican.ca/castthenet.

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More than 40 years ago, in the midst of the Troubles in Northern Ireland, the Irish band U2 opened the song “Sunday Bloody Sunday” with these words. In these opening months of 2025, their lament holds more resonance than ever. The media shows us rising greed, callousness and aggression, while the sufferings of the poor and vulnerable are not merely unheeded but, in many ways, exacerbated by the actions of those with wealth and power. On top of this, institutions and alliances we have long relied on are being called into question. In such a climate, it can be challenging to follow the daily news. It is easy to feel despair and tempting to retreat into any place where we might feel we have some control. Those of us with relative privilege may, to some degree, be able to insulate ourselves from the world. But at what cost?

As followers of Jesus, we are called to love our neighbours as ourselves, to serve the world God loves. We cannot close our eyes to the harms and injustices experienced by our neighbours and the Earth. At the same time, we cannot let ourselves be whipped into a frenzy of anger, fear and outrage. Nor can we let ourselves be crushed by a paralyzing weight of dread. Neither of these reactions can sustain the pursuit of love and justice to which God calls us.

The Rev. Madeleine Urion, a priest in the Diocese of Edmonton, writes: “I’m beginning to recognize how I do not have capacity to sustain the outrage, the fear and the anger I see daily.” Instead, she recalls the words of her then six-year-old son, facing a time of great transition: “When I get to school, I open my heart, and I keep it open no matter what comes at it.” It is that open heart, that courage to be vulnerable, compassionate and loving, that keeps us connected to our own humanity, to each other, and above all, to God.

We cultivate this openness of heart in two ways: prayer and practice.

First, prayer is essential. Jesus sustained his ministry by frequently withdrawing to deserted places to pray. In daily prayer and meditation upon scripture, we come to understand ourselves as deeply loved and sustained by God. We find our identity rooted in God, not in our wealth or status, how influential we are in our workplaces or how many people “like” us on social media. This helps us to cultivate a sense of security, humility and authenticity instead of reactivity and defensiveness when we feel ourselves under threat.

From such a place, we are more able to open ourselves up to those around us. We can meet our neighbours with compassion, offering them dignity and respect. We can come to recognize and honour the diverse gifts of each person, resisting the forces that dehumanize God’s people and isolate us from each other. We can even cultivate love for our enemies, recognizing that our struggle is not against flesh-and-blood human beings but against the spiritual forces of evil, as the Epistle to the Ephesians tells us. While we stand up against hatred and injustice, we can, like Jesus, refuse to wield the weapons of hatred against our adversaries.

This is not easy. Our natural impulses to wall ourselves off from whatever and whoever we perceive as a threat, or to lash out in response, are constantly being stoked, often for gain. We need to return to prayer again and again, to ground us in our connection with God, to ask for that open heart, for the fruit of the Spirit to be grown in us.

We might adopt a habit of praying for divine protection and guidance before we read the news or open up social media, as suggested in a blog by Rabbi Irwin Keller. Rabbi Keller also suggests praying after reading the news, asking for wisdom and discernment on what one “might do for peace, for justice, for the wholeness of our planet, or for the betterment of my community.”

This brings us to the second point: embodying our faith in practical action. This is important in several ways. It gets us out of our heads – and screens! – and into the material world. Cooking and serving meals, making up harm reduction or relief kits, tending a garden, making art, taking someone to an appointment, picking up litter – all these things not only show love in a tangible way, but they are grounding for us who do them, connecting us to each other and the Earth. These acts may seem insignificant in the face of great evil, but God can multiply these small but concrete acts, just as he multiplied the loaves and fishes brought forward by one young boy to feed the multitudes.

“In a world bent on chaos, practicing the fruit of the Spirit becomes an act of defiance and hope,” says African American author Jemar Tisby. In the midst of anger, fear or uncertainty, let us seek God in prayer, and then do the next compassionate thing.

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Each year, Vocations Sunday falls on the fourth Sunday of Easter, or Good Shepherd Sunday. That means this year Vocations Sunday is on May 11. Churches across denominations, including many of our own throughout the Anglican Communion, keep this Sunday as the World Day of Prayer for Vocations with an intentional focus on prayer, asking God to raise up people to serve in ordained ministry (both deacons and priests), as well as in the religious life.

All of us, as the baptized people of God, are called to live out our faith by knowing Christ and making Christ known as Saviour and Lord, and to share in the renewing of his world. All of us have gifts we are called to use to build up the Body of Christ and to imitate the love and life of Jesus in our relationships with each other and all those we encounter back out in the world. For some, that call is one to ordained ministry.

As a young teenager, I began to sense a call from God to the priesthood. It was not something I would have ever imagined for my life or thought myself up to the task of, even though I’d grown up in the Church and was actively involved. For several years I kept that “tugging” feeling to myself, but it just wouldn’t go away. And from time to time, those in my home parish, without knowing I was sensing this call, would sometimes ask me questions like, “have you ever thought of becoming a priest?” While I wasn’t ready to answer “yes” at the time, with their continued support and affirmation I eventually found the courage to speak with my parish priest and begin the process of testing and discerning God’s call in my life. This year marks the 20^th anniversary of my ordination, and it has been one of the greatest privileges and joys of my life to serve with and among God’s people in this way.

I share this story to encourage others who might be wrestling with such a sense of call to reach out and speak to someone about it – maybe a trusted parishioner or your parish priest – and to encourage the rest of us to pay attention to who the Spirit is calling us to notice in our congregations that might possess gifts for ordained ministry. Maybe we might ask them the same question: “Have you ever thought of becoming a priest (or deacon)?”

The role of the faith community is central to discerning a vocation to ordained ministry. While the call originates with God and is personal, it is also communal, something that needs to be prayerfully discerned and affirmed by both the individual and the wider Church. I have not only experienced this firsthand as an integral part of my own journey towards ordination, but also on the other side by discerning others’ sense of call to the priesthood as a member of the Postulancy Committee. Made up of both lay and ordained members, the Postulancy Committee has the privilege and responsibility of walking with those who believe they are called by God to be a priest, generally over a two-year period, with continuous discernment taking place, including feedback from different parts of the Church throughout the process. Canon Mary Conliffe is the point of contact for the Postulancy Committee, and she would be delighted to have a conversation with you if you are considering a call to the priesthood. There is also a process for those considering a call to be a deacon. The Venerable Kyn Barker is the contact person for further inquiries regarding ordination to the diaconate.

In Matthew 9:37, Jesus tells his disciples “to ask the Lord of the harvest to send out labourers into his harvest.” It comes after Jesus has been out to all the towns and cities, preaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of God’s kingdom and curing many who were sick. As he looks at the crowds that have gathered, Matthew tells us Jesus had compassion for them because they were “harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” It’s then that Jesus tells his disciples to ask God to send more labourers, others who will also see the vast need he sees and partner with him in his liberating, life-affirming, life-giving and life-restoring mission.

As we continue to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection throughout the Easter season, may we each listen for the voice of our Good Shepherd who knows, loves and calls each of us by name. And following his command, may we pray to the Lord to send out more labourers into his harvest, especially those called to holy orders. For the harvest is plentiful indeed.

A Prayer for Vocations Sunday:

God our Father, Lord of all the world, through your Son you have called us into the fellowship of your universal Church: hear our prayer for your faithful people that in their vocation and ministry each may be an instrument of your love, through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.

(From Growing vocations everywhere | The Church of England)

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