The bell at St. James, Caledon East has been ringing in joy and sorrow since 1901. On Nov. 11, the church participated in the Bells of Peace, commemorating 100 years since the Armistice in 1918. The event attracted parishioners, people from the neighbouring church in the village, and others, including members of the Royal Canadian Legion and Caledon’s mayor. People took turns ringing with five seconds between tugs on the old rope, while others listened in the candlelit church. The last ringer was the youngest member of the congregation, who helps ring the bell each Sunday. Piper Al Lawrie played a lament and Amazing Grace as darkness fell. The event spoke to the need people have for acts of solemn remembrance, and the role churches can play as community hubs for spiritual gatherings other than regular worship services.

Diane Allengame, St. James

St. Thomas, Brooklin celebrates sesquicentennial

Almost 150 years ago, Thomas Lumsden donated two acres of land to a small group of Christians to establish a place of worship. On the corner of what is now St. Thomas Street and Winchester Road, Brooklin, St. Thomas Anglican Church began. The first service was held on Dec. 21, 1869. In 2019, St. Thomas’ will be 150 years old and the parishioners will be celebrating throughout the year. “It’s a time of giving God thanks for the rich legacy left to us by our forebears in faith,” says the Rev. Canon Claire Wade, incumbent. A history of the church’s ministry was published and launched on Nov. 18, 2018 and the sesquicentennial celebrations kicked off on Dec. 23, 2018. For information about events in 2019, visit www.stthomasbrooklin.com.

The post Parish news roundup appeared first on The Toronto Anglican.

“I thank God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now.” (Philippians 1:3-5)

Forty-one years ago, I attended my first Synod in the Diocese of Toronto as a young deacon. I’ve tried to remember how many Synods I’ve been to. I can’t remember, but it’s at least 75 to 80. I’ve only missed one Synod in the Diocese of Toronto, and that’s because I was on sabbatical.

But naturally, as a young cleric 41 years ago, you know everything, and you have an opinion – of course, the correct opinion – about every subject. So another newly minted deacon – a certain Philip Poole – and I decided that a motion on the floor of Synod to amend the canon about candidates for ordination had not taken into account our perspective as new ordinands, and so we brashly moved an amendment. Anyway, who were these people who had moved and seconded the original motion? I had no idea who Archdeacon Arthur Brown or Canon Duncan Abraham were. Well, our amendment was soundly defeated, and Philip and I were invited to the office of one Canon Douglas Blackwell, executive assistant to Bishop Lewis Garnsworthy, for a wee chat. And it turned out to be a life-changing experience, because Douglas became a mentor and a friend, as did a subsequent executive assistant to the bishop, Michael Bedford-Jones. And almost 15 years later, I succeeded both of them as the executive assistant to the bishop. I have been in the Bishop’s Office, therefore, since 1992.

This marks my last Synod as your bishop, and I want to thank you for the privilege and honour it has been to serve this remarkable diocese. Now in my 42nd year of ordination, my 16th year in episcopal ministry and my 15th year as your diocesan bishop, tonight I’m not going to give a Charge to Synod. That will be up to Bishop Andrew to set the direction. Rather, I will give you a few hopefully brief reflections on some of the significant changes that are the foundations on which we will continue to build.

From Lewis Garnsworthy and Allan Read until Andrew Asil, I have worked under the leadership or beside 22 bishops in this diocese – 17 since I joined the Synod Office as executive assistant to Terry Finlay in 1992. Each was different. Each brought specific gifts. Each served with great faithfulness, and each provided the Church with the needed gifts at the time. I’m just going to touch on a few of the more significant changes I’ve seen in some of that period of ministry.

The increased place of laity, rooted in a renewed understanding of baptism, that began in the 1970s or took form in the 1970s. And then, more especially, the place of women in the official leadership of the Church. I was ordained deacon on the very same day that Marge Pesach was ordained as the first female priest in the Diocese of Toronto. It was 25 years ago – I was executive assistant to the bishop – that Victoria Matthews was elected as the first woman to be a bishop in the Canadian Church, on the same day that Michael Bedford-Jones was first elected. So they are celebrating their jubilees this year.

It has led to the development of a corps of highly trained, highly skilled laity to work across the diocese in congregational development, stewardship coaching facilitation and training, building on the Cursillo movement of the ’70s and then the Logos programming of the ’80s, and now part of our diocesan ministry strategy. The Order of the Diocese of Toronto has been established to honour the significant contributions of exemplary lay people doing their ordinary ministries within their communities. Over 250 have been awarded this distinction so far. That sounds like a lot until you realize that it’s half of one per cent of the people of this diocese.

The Our Faith-Our Hope: Reimagine Church campaign raised $40 million, increasing our capacity to support ministry in parishes in the diocese and across our country. The Ministry Allocation Fund provides a transparent policy for making grants that has funded new church development, innovative forms of ministry and parish support. The establishment of FaithWorks has meant that as Anglicans in this diocese, we have a focused program that has contributed over $24 million to assist tens of thousands of vulnerable people in our society. Our social justice and advocacy has given voice to the need to change laws and policies and provide opportunities for the poor and the marginalized in our wider society that reflect Jesus’ call to serve the least. The development and implementation of a robust sexual misconduct policy and Screening in Faith have enabled us to respond clearly, effectively and proactively to abuse and for the protection of children and vulnerable adults in our Church. Our policies have informed those of jurisdictions right across North America.

The rehabilitation of the ministry of healing and the training of lay anointers have allowed this ministry to become a regular part of liturgical and pastoral care in most parishes. The restoration of the diaconate as a distinct and essential ministry in its own right, and not merely as a transitional waystation on the road to the “real ministry” of priesthood.

When I arrived at the Synod Office in 1992, there were computers and typewriters and Dictaphones and one answering machine – and, yes, some quill pens. The invention of the internet, electronic communication and social media have revolutionized and will continue to change incredibly how we communicate, relate to one another, gather information, create communities and make decisions. It’s changing how we do church and has the possibility of creating conditions that will be as disruptive and creative as the printing press and the Reformation were 500 years ago.

Greater access, however, to information has not led to better understanding of truth. We are the best educated and most informed society that has ever existed, and yet never before has public discourse been so fact-free and truth-alternative. That used to be called lying. Our diocese has a continuing obligation and opportunity to speak truth to power.

We’re in the midst of rapid demographic and cultural transformation. Did you know that up until 1980, there were a total of about half a million immigrants in the Greater Toronto Area, which includes about two-thirds of the Diocese of Toronto? Of that half million, more than 50 per cent were European. In the last five years alone, there are over 360,000 immigrants to the GTA, almost 260,000 from Asia. We are now home to about a quarter of a million people from the Caribbean in total. In the last five years alone, that same number of people, a quarter of a million, have arrived in Toronto from just five countries: India, China, the Philippines, Iran and Pakistan. I bet you didn’t consider Iran in that list.

Today we have Anglican services in Toronto in English, Cantonese, Mandarin, Japanese, Tamil, Italian, Portuguese, Spanish, Bengali, Malayalam, Tagalog, Urdu, Swahili, Sudanese languages, Ghanaian languages, Cree and Oji-Cree, and others that I have missed. And that’s just languages. That does not mention our accommodation of differing cultural or spiritual or theological differences.

We are a microcosm of the Anglican Communion in this diocese. That is unique in any part of the world, and it presents both incredible opportunities and special challenges of diversity and inclusion in a way that would have been unfathomable to Bishop John Strachan, our first bishop, or even to Bishop George Snell or Lewis Garnsworthy. Globalization is not simply a virtual reality in a networked world. Globalization is our daily physical and practical lived experience, and in this globalized world the capacity of our diocese to engage internationally is unique in Canada, and in fact probably unique in the world. Our work in bringing together the Anglican bishops in dialogue, participating in funding the Indaba processes that have created opportunities for deep listening and growing understanding across the whole Communion. The number of Diocese of Toronto Anglicans who serve on international commissions and bodies in the Communion is unmatched by any diocese in the world.

In a world that seems to be increasingly polarized, we have striven in this diocese, and largely succeeded, in holding not only the centre but even some of the fraying edges, by creating a big tent where many can find a secure place, where differences can be argued and expressed and lived out without breaking the relationships. We have a number of challenges, and these too are not new. We have fewer parishes, fewer parishioners, fewer clergy than we had a decade ago or two decades ago or four decades ago. Contrary to popular rhetoric, it’s not a recent phenomenon; it began in the 1950s. In fact, the longest-serving Bishop of Toronto fretted about declining numbers in his address to Synod in 1901.

Twenty-five per cent of our parishes are actually growing. The others are static or declining. That is actually better than most institutions today, but we should not let that comfort us too much. We have much to learn, and we need each other. All of us need all of us to faithfully discern where God is calling us to be and to do.

For me, the most fundamental change in the past 15 years has been the focus on missional work. Not mission over the sea and far away, but mission here at home, in our neighborhood, on our street. In spite of the differences that might separate us at some levels, especially in matters of sexuality and marriage, we have found common ground in the call to be missional. Not as a program, not to put bums in pews, not to maintain our own historic roles and privileges, but missional as a way of life, a way of understanding and of participating in God’s purposes for God’s world. Turning outward toward the world for the sake of the gospel, for the sake of the world, for the sake of the kingdom of God.

This has been driving our strategy, our decisions, our investment of resources, our prayer. Even if we’re not doing it perfectly, it is the direction we are turned. Our commitment to Jesus Christ in his way, his truth and his life is what binds us together in a way that is hopeful and compelling and joyful, and there is so much encouragement in this. This is our mission, this is our vision: We are a Church that proclaims and embodies Jesus Christ through compassionate service, intelligent faith and Godly worship. We work to build healthy, missional Anglican communities to share the gospel of Jesus Christ.

It has been my incredible joy to have been part of this journey with you. There are so many people that I could thank. It would take me the next day or two to even begin to do that, so instead of risking forgetting someone, I just want to mention five people and let them be signs of a whole lot of other things.

The first is my wife of 42 years, Ellen. It would not have been possible without my arch support and my arch critic and my bubble-pricker, and the one who keeps blowing up the bubble to make it fresh and whole again. Mary Conliffe, who for 17 years has been one of my closest confidants. And my chancellor, Clare Burns, who is number one on my speed dial – well, actually number two. Ellen is one. And then two people who, in the terms of the Salvation Army, have been promoted to glory: Bob Falby and Terry Finlay.

And there’s one more: you, each one of you. You have made a difference. You continue to make a difference. You will make a difference. I leave with confidence and hope. I’ve never been one to look back and hanker for the good old days. I see, rather, those good old days as signs of God’s abiding faithfulness and look forward to the next thing that God wants me and us to do.

In the words of St. Paul from a different letter: “For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth takes its name. I pray that according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you were being rooted and grounded in love. I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be the glory in the Church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.”

The post It has been an honour to serve appeared first on The Toronto Anglican.

Concern for the poor has been a hallmark of living faith from Biblical times to the present day. Jesus’ remark, “The poor will always be with you,” is not a justification for ignoring the needs of the poor, but recalls God’s command to His people in Deuteronomy, exhorting them to open their hands to their neighbours in need.

In Ontario, the poor continue to be with us. Social assistance rates are deeply inadequate to meet the basic needs of most recipients, with increases below the rate of inflation. Thirty of the 59 federal ridings in the Diocese of Toronto have child poverty rates above the national average. Overall, more than 26 per cent of children in Toronto live in poverty, while in the riding of Toronto Centre, the child poverty rate is 40 per cent – one of the highest rates in Canada. A recent report from the Ontario Association of Food Banks pointed out that over half a million people in Ontario used a food bank in the last year. One-third of them were children. Worryingly, the number of seniors using food banks jumped by 10 per cent.

Recently announced changes to social assistance will make it more difficult for people to qualify for the higher rates offered to those with disabilities, and increased clawbacks will mean people lose the benefit of additional earnings even earlier, becoming ineligible for assistance while still making far below minimum wage. Minimum wage itself has been frozen until October 2020, and protections for precarious workers have been rolled back. Even the federal government’s seniors’ benefits, which for decades helped to ensure income security for the elderly, have failed to keep pace with the cost of living. The federal government has introduced a national poverty reduction strategy but has not yet introduced any new programs or funding.

Each year, the diocese’s College of Bishops approves a motion prepared by the Diocesan Social Justice & Advocacy Committee for parishes to consider at their annual vestry meeting. The Social Justice Vestry motion for 2019 calls us to stand in solidarity with those living in poverty in our communities. Usually the motion contains a specific policy request of one or more levels of government. This year, however, the motion is constructed somewhat differently, inviting parishes not just to assent to a resolution, but to take on specific advocacy and action steps of their own.

We recognize that poverty is the result of multiple factors that can be addressed by policy measures on the part of government, but such measures require political will and cooperation over the long term.  In the meantime, people in our communities are living with real needs that must be met.

As those who follow Christ, we resist the notion that our society cannot afford to protect the most vulnerable, and we continue to call on our governments to establish policies that reduce inequality, so that all can live in dignity. This year’s vestry motion invites each parish to consider and adopt at least one way of increasing its advocacy on behalf of those in need. A list of suggestions is included with the motion, with more details provided on the diocese’s website, www.toronto.anglican.ca. The Diocesan Social Justice & Advocacy Committee can also assist parishes with writing letters and organizing visits with local elected officials.

While we continue to advocate for systemic change, we are also called to demonstrate our solidarity and concern directly. Again, the actions taken will be different for each parish. Some parishes may choose to explore a new outreach ministry, while others may choose to expand or enhance an existing program. Still others may take the opportunity to increase their parish FaithWorks commitment. By giving our time, money and presence to those whom society sees as expendable, we resist our culture’s glorification of wealth and power, and bear witness to Jesus, who identified with “the least of these”.

Reaching out, speaking up and standing in solidarity with those in need, we commit our parishes to fulfilling the law of Christ.

The post Stand in solidarity with those living in poverty appeared first on The Toronto Anglican.

The wise men, or magi, were from Persia, roughly modern-day Iran and Iraq. They would have been well educated and culturally sophisticated; they had dedicated their whole lives to searching the heavens for signs of significant political events that were to take place.

They had observed a great star at the very beginning of its ascent. Different historians posit different theories about that star. Was it the conjunction of Mars, Jupiter and Saturn in 6 BC or a nova growing very brightly, or was it simply the regular occurrence of Venus at its most brilliant? That doesn’t really matter, but the timing does. “Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star appeared.”  Later on, we are told that Herod ordered the slaughter of all children under the age of two in Bethlehem, and so the star must have risen two years previously. These men would have spotted the star, made mathematical calculations, reflected, researched and looked at the Hebrew scriptures, and then, and only then, would they have saddled up their camels and begun the 1,200-kilometre trek across deserts and mountains to Jerusalem.

They may have made some detours, and in the days before satellite navigation probably made some wrong turns. It took time for those magi – years, in fact – to get to Jerusalem, to have a look at this so-called “light of the world.” It was an enquiring, slow and difficult path that they took. They were searchers and saw their lives as a journey of discovery – “I still haven’t found what I am looking for.”

The neighbourhoods and villages that our churches are in are full of people who are searching for the light – the light of truth in an era of fake news, the light of hope in a culture of death and despair, the light of relationships and community in an age of loneliness and isolation. Local churches are marvellously positioned to be places of genuine welcome, where honest searching can take place and space is created for intellectual wrestling with the meaning and purpose of life – spaces Jesus wants to speak into.

In this past year, I have been encouraged to find an increasing number of parishes intentionally creating space for people like the magi to explore the Christian faith. These people may already be in the church, but many are those in our neighbourhoods who are searching for the light. I find parishes running the Pilgrim course, Refresh and the Alpha course, and spending time cooking meals to go with these programs and thereby creating that safe, non-judgmental atmosphere necessary for people to discover, reflect and search like the magi did. Studies show that it takes years and numerous positive interactions with Christians for people to move closer to Christian faith, so intentionally and repeatedly creating space for people to wrestle with and explore faith is critically important in our parishes.

At Christmas we stood back in awe and wonder as God put God’s cards on the table, revealing to us in Jesus the light that came to dispel the darkness. In this Epiphany season, I would encourage you to do two things. Begin praying for one person you know – a work colleague, friend or family member – who is spiritually curious. And begin to think through how your church could create space, outside of Sunday morning alone, for such a person to search after the light of the world – because they still haven’t found what they are looking for.

The post Like the magi, many are searching appeared first on The Toronto Anglican.

About 40 people showed up at St. Margaret, New Toronto on Nov. 17 to help the church clean up its property after a man wrote the graffiti on a shed behind the church building on three separate occasions in September and October.

The volunteers included neighbours, local merchants, teenagers and parents with young children. One concerned citizen offered to write a cheque on the spot to install security cameras to help make the area safe.

“I was so moved,” said the Rev. Jacqueline Daley, interim priest-in-charge of St. Margaret’s. “They had read about the incidents in the newspapers and wanted to say ‘absolutely not in my community. We’re going to come together and send a message that this does not define us.’”

Ms. Daley says the incidents have opened up conversations in the parish and wider community about racism. “The list of connections and phone calls and people opening up to express themselves has really blown me away,” she says. “I’ve always believed that love is so much more powerful than hate. It always brings out the best in people.”

She said she was stunned when a long-time parishioner, Sharon Williams, first showed her the graffiti on the shed on Sept. 6. “When I first saw it, I literally lost my mind,” she recalls. “Of all my years in Canada – I grew up in Toronto – I realized I had never seen the N-word written anywhere. It hit me at my core.”

Ms. Daley, who is black, thinks the graffiti was prompted by her recent arrival at the church. “It’s supposed to incite fear and terror, and it’s a reminder of the painful history of black people in this country,” she says. “It’s part of our history of racism, exclusion and injustice.”

After the graffiti was painted over, the man struck again in early October and then again on Oct. 28 while Ms. Daley and the congregation were inside the church at their Sunday morning worship service. The man was chased away and has been identified but, as of Nov. 23, police had not made an arrest.

In addition to cleaning up its property, the church has started a social justice committee and is looking at ways to improve safety in and around the building, including the installation of security cameras, lighting and secure access. Noelle Richardson, a specialist in diversity and inclusion, was invited to speak to the congregation shortly after the first incident. She encouraged the congregation to use the incident as a catalyst for positive change and neighbourhood engagement. As well, Ms. Daley has also spoken about the incidents and racism in her homilies.

“This has been such an education for me,” she says. “It has affirmed to me that we in the diocese have a problem that we need to address. It has opened up a lot of conversations that we cannot ignore. I think it’s an opportunity for us to go and do some ministry and intentional work of engagement.”

In response to the incidents, the diocese’s College of Bishops asked Bishop Jenny Andison, the area bishop of York-Credit Valley, and Bishop Peter Fenty, the area bishop of York-Simcoe, to take a lead in consultation with Brother Reginald Crenshaw, OHC, in drafting a list of things to be done when a hate crime is experienced by a parish. In the near future, the diocese will also be looking at developing a policy that addresses the dismantling of racism.

“Unfortunately hate crimes are on the rise and we need to equip parishes for how to deal with them,” said Bishop Andison. She visited St. Margaret’s immediately after the first incident to meet and worship with the congregation, leading prayers for both the parish and the perpetrator.

“We named the graffiti for what it was – hate and evil,” said Bishop Andison. “As Christians we’re called to be light in the midst of evil, and we prayed about how we can do that.”

The post Church, diocese respond to racist graffiti appeared first on The Toronto Anglican.

Submitted by Helen Taylor of St. Barnabas, Chester

The post Church displays banners in wake of attacks appeared first on The Toronto Anglican.

While preparing the couple for the baptism of their baby, the Rev. Canon Jennifer Reid learned that they weren’t married because they couldn’t afford a wedding. When asked what sort of wedding they wanted, they said a small, simple one with 10-15 people present.

Canon Reid felt the church might be able to help. She offered to marry the couple during the baptism service, which was planned for 9:15 a.m. on Sunday, between the 8 a.m. and 11 a.m. services. After a night to think about it, the couple said they’d love to do it.

A number of parishioners volunteered their time and talents for the wedding. One parishioner served as the Master of Ceremonies for the reception afterwards, while another parishioner baked the cake. Parishioners decorated the church, brought punch and champagne and even booked a room for the couple at a local inn with dinner and breakfast included. A local hairdresser did the bride’s hair in the church before the service. Children from the church school created a flower arch for the bride as she walked down the aisle.

Not only was their baby baptized, but so was the husband-to-be. Then they were married, with a small reception in the church hall afterwards. “It was the whole community coming together to lift up this young couple,” says Canon Reid. “It was a gift of community.”

The post Church pitches in for couple’s wedding appeared first on The Toronto Anglican.

The service remembered 45 victims who had died and 154 who had been injured from gun violence in the city as of Nov. 3. One parent, Okwi Modekwe, father of shooting victim Ernest Modekwe, shared his journey of grief.

In addition to comforting the families and loved ones of the shooting victims, the service called for action to address gun violence, calling it public health crisis that is threatening the well-being of Toronto. The Rev. Sky Starr, pastor and executive director of Out of Bounds, a charity that provides grief and trauma support in the GTA, provided practical strategies to support grieving families.

The service was led by Ms. Daley and Rev. Kenneth Korsah, priest-in-charge of the Ghanaian Anglican Church of Toronto. Through their ministries, both continue to support families and friends impacted by gun violence. On July 13, they officiated at the funeral service for Mr. Modekwe, 28, who was killed on Queen Street; more than 300 young people attended the funeral. “The majority participated in Holy Communion, food to strengthen them for the journey of grief,” said Ms. Daley. “This is a very urgent and important work of the Church that needs attention.”

The post Service remembers victims of gun violence in city appeared first on The Toronto Anglican.

Do you remember the first time you learned how to ride a bicycle? If your experience was anything like mine, it happens in stages. I first learned in the 1960s, when banana seats and big handlebars and streamers were all the rage. That was not my bike. I had a hand-me-down from my older brother. It was red with chipped paint and a white seat and bent fenders. It was so uncool, and what made it even more uncool was that it had training wheels on it.

Now, there are some things that are good about training wheels, because they can give you confidence when you don’t quite have your balance, and they can help you ride and keep upright when you’re kind of tipping over, and you can navigate tight corners. But with time, you realize that there are limitations when you have training wheels on. While you can out-speed the little kids on the tricycle, you can’t quite keep up with the big kids.

And then comes that fateful day when the training wheels come off. I remember that day like it was yesterday – my father holding me up, and I leaning into him, hoping that he wouldn’t let me go. And then as I tried to curb my fear, he encouraged me with words like, “Don’t look down, look up. Watch where you’re going. Keep pedaling. Now pedal faster. Don’t look down, look up. Keep moving.”

We just kept moving with speed and more speed, and before I knew it there was a little nudge, and I thought he was still there, and it was only when I looked back and noticed him far behind that I wiped out. But you know, it didn’t matter, because I’d caught for that little moment that I’d taken flight, just for a moment.

It feels like I have training wheels on again as I’ve been learning how to ride and pedal alongside this diocese of 183 parishes in 230 congregations that stretch over a huge area, that are diverse in their liturgical and theological expression from low to high and everything in between, from the small town in the crossroads to the inner city to the suburbs – and as we’ve been hearing at Synod, speaking languages that we have not heard before in our presence in our communities, new voices and new tones and new languages sung and prayed. On my first Sunday it was Spanish and on my second Sunday it was Cantonese. What a delight.

And in each congregation, devoted and dedicated lay leaders like yourselves, who every day live out your baptismal call, and clergy who are so gifted in these changing times to take new risks for the sake of ministry, and at the core a College of Bishops – namely, Peter and Riscylla, Kevin and Jenny – who are so wise and so dedicated and so passionate for the gospel, not just in their geographical areas but for the whole diocese and for the whole Church. And then you step into 135 Adelaide Street, and you appreciate all of the gears and the pedals and the spokes and the tires and the wheels, and how it all goes together from department to department, as very dedicated staff do this. This (Synod) is remarkable. I’ve been to a lot of different Synods that are not run like this.

But for the last month and just a bit, I have been watching and learning from Colin Johnson on how to ride the bike. Now, the first thing that you learn is that Colin never puts his hands on the handlebars, but actually what he’s doing is juggling with one hand all of the issues and the canons and the finances and the HR issues, while with the other hand he’s drinking a latte, with a speed dial to the Chancellor. He is reciting from memory every Collect that has ever been written and can tell you the liturgical origin of it. He does not need a GPS to get anywhere in the diocese. He knows where every parish is, and if you press him he can name the succession of incumbents down to the beginning of the last century. It’s like a kid with a hockey card.

It’s not just the past and it’s not just the future. We are in a moment in between. We are in a moment between what was and what is coming. And when you live in a transition moment, it is really important for all of us just simply to be perfectly still. And the first emotion that comes to bear is gratitude – gratitude that God has called us and brought us safely to this moment, all of us. Deep gratitude to you, Colin. You have pedaled so hard, and when we were tempted to look down, you said “Look up. Watch where you’re going. Keep your eye on what is most important. Chase after a Saviour that is calling us to life.”

I always use this day of Synod as kind of that one moment, “if we just get to Synod, I’ll be okay,” and then “if I just get to the next thing, I’ll be okay.” As we get closer to Dec. 31, it feels like the pace is quickening. And before long, we’re going to be running, you (Colin) next to the bike and us on it, and before you know it, Colin’s just going to give a little nudge, and when we look back we will see him. And then there will be times when we will have little wipeouts, but that’s okay, because we know how to get back up.

It’s important to look back, and it’s important to look into the future, but we can’t look too far into the future, not yet, because we’re in between. But I’d like to share just four things with you tonight about what I’m hearing and listening to and have been watching in the last month and a bit.

The first is this: to see Jesus. When you step into the pulpit at St. James Cathedral, you will see a plaque that says, “We wish to see Jesus.” That comes from John, chapter 12. It’s when the Greeks come, and they say to Philip and to Andrew, “We wish to see Jesus.” It’s a reminder to the preacher that it is a privilege and a joy to open the word, and it is a tremendous responsibility to open the word in changing times and dynamic ways, to somehow touch the hurt and the sorrow and the bereft nature that comes out of the pews Sunday by Sunday, that we might crowd around with cries together and experience the risen Lord in our midst.

My mind keeps going back to the reading that we heard at the Eucharist this morning. Imagine that moment when Jesus goes back to Capernaum, he goes back home – we don’t know if it’s his house or Peter’s house – and a great crowd gathers inside and outside, and they are crowding around the front door and they’re craning their necks and they’re cupping their ears in the hopes that they might just be able to hear a word that they need to hear.

Sometimes we don’t even know why we’re hungry, sometimes we don’t even know what’s missing, but when we hear it we know we’ve been fed. Just like the Greeks who wished to see Jesus so long ago, I want to see and experience the real thing. That same hunger is with us in our day today. Some of us have wandered away from our faith, and we’ve been away so long we do not know how to get home. And some of us have never had the opportunity of learning and hearing the story of who Jesus is.

When our children were young, I had to figure out a way to teach them how to pray. I remember when Hannah was about three years old, and I tried to imagine how I was going to teach this young child. One night after a story, I said to Hannah, “How would you like to pray?” And she said, “Daddy, I don’t know how. You start.”

So I said, “Dear God, thank you for this beautiful day. Thank you for the clouds and the sun.” And she elbowed me, and she said, “And the trees and the birds!” “And the trees and the birds. And we pray for all the people who are poor and don’t have any food, and those who are sick.” “Don’t forget Nana and Grandpa!” “Nana and Grandpa.” And all the way through that prayer, we went back and forth. The second night, the same, the third night the same again, and on the fourth night I said, “Hannah, how would you like to start?” And it was like watching a kid ride a bike.

It is the same in our call as parishes to be intentional about forming and reforming and telling and gathering around the word, and gathering around liturgy, and creating liturgies that inspire and speak to a changing time, of plumbing the depths of our traditions so that we unearth all of the gems of old Collects that still speak and sing in an age that longs to hear and to see Jesus in the way we want to, too.

The second: we need each other. Imagine the paralyzed man on a pallet with four friends as they’re wending their way through the streets of Capernaum, and they come to the house, and there’s a huge crowd, and the four friends know that no amount of elbowing is ever going to get them close. Try and imagine it in your own mind, that process where they decided that it might be a good idea to scale the house, to clamber up the side, to lift the tiles and dig through the roof. I wonder whose idea that was. I wonder if the paralyzed man said to his friends, “Really, no actually, I don’t want you to go to that kind of effort. Maybe we should just go home.” And then lifting him up the side of the house and saying, “No really, honestly, I think we should just go home.”

And did he stop protesting when they started lifting the tiles and digging through for him? Did he go silent? Imagine the dust coming down and daylight bleeding into the living room. Imagine how conspicuous he might have felt as he’s being lowered down, and how so many had looked down on him for so long, and how he had looked down on himself. And the text says, “And Jesus saw their faith and said, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.’” It was their tenacity, their faith, their hunger to push through so that their friend might be healed, that made all the difference in the world.

It takes that kind of tenacity to be the Church today, to scale the impossible and to break through in places where we ought not to go. Sometimes it is important for us to take the risks that we didn’t think we were capable of doing. Sometimes it’s the Church that’s paralyzed. Sometimes the Church is afraid of what’s coming around the corner. Sometimes it’s the sins of our past that paralyze us; we are learning that as we walk with our Indigenous brothers and sisters. Some of us feel quite paralyzed in facing General Synod 2019, because we’re afraid.

But this I know: we need each other. We need all of us to lift the Church. We need conservative and liberal, charismatic and high church, we need LGBTQ and straight. We need all of us to be able to face the future, because it is Jesus that transforms us, and it is Jesus who will say, “Pick up your mat and walk.” It is important for us to be able to walk in unison together and, while we are afraid, to walk anyway. My pledge is that we walk together. It is not enough just to tolerate each other. Jesus did not say, “Tolerate your neighbour as you tolerate yourself.” Jesus did not say, “Make room for your neighbour as you make room for yourself.” Jesus said, “Love your neighbour as yourself.” We are in this together, folks.

Number three: creation matters. When it was Sophie, our youngest’s, turn to learn how to pray, she would keep coming back to the same petition over and over, every single night. She would simply say, “Dear God, let there be enough water.” I had never at her age ever imagined saying such a petition, never had to worry about it, and now we do. (From) the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change from the UN, we have sobering news. And while we might be able to argue the semantics of it all, in the same way we argue the semantics of the prophets of old like Jeremiah and Ezekiel and Amos and Hosea, we would throw it all out at our peril, because the truth is being told to us and we are being confronted by it. Perhaps that’s why so many of our young are feeling anxious. The Church needs not to be passive now but active, because creation matters. It matters for this generation and our grandchildren’s generation and our great grandchildren’s generation. And we need to learn how to walk together as a people of faith, because we are created in God’s image.

The fourth thing: There’s a hole in my roof. I’ve often imagined that moment at the end of that reading when the crowd goes home, and Peter’s wife looks up and says, “There’s a hole in my roof.” And for some churches that is a reality, and for some churches it’s a reality that is a game-changer, in saying, “We can’t fix that hole in the roof.” For some of us, we are burdened by our old structures, and we pour all of our energy into old buildings. But a hole in your roof gives you a new advantage and a new vantage point in seeing creation and the future in a new way, and it will take all of the innovation and the creativity of all of us to imagine new structures, and how we use our properties and our buildings in creating new partnerships with community members in our large towns and big towns and small towns. And there are holes in our structures, too, as we heard from our Intercultural Working Group, and structures that divide and keep out, that we need to have the courage to change and transform. And how we make decisions so that we do that with clarity, always keeping our eyes on the faith that has called us and the faith that is in us.

I’m a bit nervous to take the training wheels off, but I am so excited, and I am so excited by what I have heard at this Synod, by the Missional Moments, the creativity of all the congregations across this diocese, and even in parishes where there is deep hurt and malaise, a new sense of a dawning day, of new creative ways that we will meet the future. Don’t be afraid. Pedal along. Thanks be to God.

The post We are in a moment in between appeared first on The Toronto Anglican.